


Fourth Year: Of fucking course it's Harry

by DominusMortis



Series: Harry Potter and Why He Should Never Be Left Unsupervised [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Book 4: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Canon Death, Drinking, F/M, Humour, I'm not getting better at tags, M/M, Oooh Feelings, Rewrite, Ron is a bit of a dick, Sarcasm is strong in this, Shit is starting, Swearing, Teenagers Fighting, Triwizard Tournament, Yay people are dating now, canon divulgence, enjoy?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:15:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 67,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25701946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DominusMortis/pseuds/DominusMortis
Summary: And it's fourth year for Sarah, Draco, Harry, Ron and Hermione. The Triwizard Tournament is coming to Hogwarts but how is everyone going to react after the appearance of Death Eaters at the Quidditch World Cup. Can Sarah and Draco deal with the knowledge that their fathers were likely under the masks?As relationships grow and unease bubbles to the surface, Sarah has to help Harry struggle through the gruelling Triwizard tasks whilst also negotiating fights between friends. What is going to be the cost this time?AGAIN - All characters and plot is J. K Rowling's and not mine (except for obvious original content and comments). Even though Joanne is not so popular right now, her fictional world is available to all of us to be loved and cherished and hopefully this rewrite gives people some joy! It's about to start divulging from canon much more to build the foundation for the next three books.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Fred Weasley/Original Female Character(s), Millicent Bulstrode/Pansy Parkinson
Series: Harry Potter and Why He Should Never Be Left Unsupervised [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1789387
Comments: 17
Kudos: 76





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Aaaaaand I'm back! The fifth one was an absolute beast to complete and with the start of uni I was worried I wouldn't complete it easily but it is done! I hope you enjoy this one! the sixth will most likely be much smaller than the fifth and I even think it will be joined with the seventh. So enjoy jumping back into my revision of this wondrous world and thank you all for your kind comments and kudos!

“Done!” 

Sarah sat back and smiled proudly at the chaise lounge she had just finished repairing.

“Looks better than your first attempt,” came Fred’s teasing voice, a second before he dropped a light kiss to the top of her hair. “Well done.”

Sarah pushed at him playfully. “It’s not my fault that the chair was cursed. How was I supposed to know that it would explode if I changed its colour?”

Fred just smirked and winked at her before turning back to the table he was working on.

The two of them were working on a room in Sirius’ ancestral house, Grimmauld Place. After Remus had picked Sarah up from the Weasley’s two days into the holidays, he had revealed that they would be fixing up the old house. Sirius had joined them a week into the holidays to give them access to the decrepit building and was now staying indefinitely with Remus and Sarah.

A month had passed and the house was still looking dismal.

After a lot of nagging on Sarah’s part, she managed to convince Remus to let her invite Draco, Harry, Hermione and some of the Weasleys over to help with the house. The new Fidelius Charm that Sirius had cast on it hid the underage magic they were performing. Throughout July, Remus would pop over to the various locations to pick up one or two people and bring them back to Grimmauld Place, where they work for a few hours before escaping to explore muggle London. Occasionally, they would skip the house entirely and spend a few hours relaxing at Remus’ house.

Sarah was greatly enjoying living with Remus. He had set aside a large guest room for her to decorate however she pleased. She had invited Hermione over to help her paint the walls manually. Every time Sarah remembered Fred’s face when he had walked in the find the two girls covered head to toe in paint, she burst into uncontrollable giggles.

That was another development. Fred had kept his promise and continually wrote letters to Sarah after she left the Weasleys. Two and a half weeks into the holidays, he had written to Remus asking for permission to take Sarah out on a date. Remus had, with a look of great bemusement on his face, agreed. Sirius had fallen off his chair laughing when Remus told him and hadn’t stopped teasing Sarah whenever she mentioned Fred.

Sarah also made the effort to see Draco as much as she could. She had him over at Remus’ more often than not, but whenever his father was away, Narcissa would hole Sarah up in the Manor and discuss all the gossip she was missing. This allowed Sarah to see Blaise, Pansy, Theo and Millicent as well.

Seeing Harry was surprisingly easy. All she had to do was send him a letter telling him when she was visiting, and then she would catch the Knight Bus to him. They spent plenty of enjoyable days lounging around the park near his relatives place in the summer heat – Sarah teasing him about Draco and Harry teasing her about Fred.

“Are you two ready for lunch?” Remus’ voice called from a few levels down.

“Moony, don’t interrupt them,” came Sirius’ teasing tone. “They could be _busy_.”

“Not under my roof!” called Remus.

“This is _my_ house,” Sirius retorted, his voice growing louder.

“Details, Padfoot.”

Sarah and Fred looked at each other before bursting into laughter. There was no way they would be doing _anything_ of that sort anytime soon.

Fred offered Sarah his hand and lifted her to her feet, keeping hold of her hand as they walked down to the kitchen.

They had been dating for over a month but she still blushed whenever he did simple things like take her hand or kiss her cheek. Sirius found this hilarious and brought it up whenever they were alone.

They found the two adults sitting in the basement kitchen, a large plate of sandwiches between them. Sirius went to grab one, despite already holding one in his hand, and Remus smacked the offending limb.

“Let the others eat before you leave us nothing but crumbs, Pads,” chided Remus.

“Excuse you, I was living off rats for the majority of last year,” Sirius argued, stuffing half the sandwich into his mouth. “If I want another sandwich, I will _take_ another sandwich.”

“Stop it, children,” Sarah said, sitting down at the table with Fred beside her.

“Real great example you’re setting for us,” smirked Fred. “Mum would be so proud.”

“Please do not repeat any of this to your mother,” Remus said, shuddering slightly. “Molly can be terrifying when she wants to be.”

Fred shuddered as well. “Don’t remind me,” he muttered, grabbing a sandwich.

“What time are we going to The Burrow?” Sarah asked once she had finished.

“We’ll leave once Draco arrives at mine,” replied Remus, waving his wand and sending a butterbeer floating to Sarah and Fred. “Narcissa mentioned they would be over at two.”

Sarah grabbed Fred’s wrist to check the time.

“Wow, we were up there for nearly four hours,” she said in surprise. They had started working at nine that morning.

“Not getting up to any inappropriate business, were we?” Sirius asked crudely, wriggling his eyebrows.

“ _No!”_ Sarah and Fred cried in unison, both blushing bright red.

“Leave them alone, Pads,” Remus said, rolling his eyes. “I hope you two enjoy the Quidditch World Cup. Bulgaria versus Ireland – that’ll be something to behold.”

“Ron and Draco are just looking forward to seeing Krum,” Sarah said, rolling her eyes as well. “It’s all they’ve been able to talk about since their father’s got tickets.”

“Did dear Cissy bully Lucius into getting your ticket, Sarah?” Sirius smirked.

“Indeed she did,” confirmed Sarah around another sandwich. “Draco was ready to have a fit when his father vaguely mentioned not seeing the point in getting me a ticket. That quickly changed.”

“And your father definitely isn’t going?” Fred said anxiously.

“Yes, hun. There’s no need to worry,” Sarah said with a fond look.

“Well,” Remus said once they had finished their lunch. Fred and Sirius had managed to eat half the sandwiches between the two and still looked ready for more. “I think we better get back and cleaned up before Draco arrives. We don’t want any delays.”

The four of them placed final charms on their projects before meeting again in the kitchen. Remus grasped Sarah’s arm while Sirius held Fred’s. The crack of apparation echoed through Sarah’s skull even once they had appeared in Remus’ cosy living room. 

“Have you finished packing?” Remus asked Sarah as Sirius went to throw himself on the couch. “Sirius! Off the couch until you shower!”

Sirius grumbled something rude under his breath and trudged toward the bathroom on the first floor with a dark look at Remus.

“Nearly,” Sarah said, smirking in the direction the Animagus went.

“I’ll help,” Fred offered, grabbing her hand and leading her to her room.

They quickly threw the last of Sarah’s things into her school trunk, laughing occasionally at Remus’ voice drifting up the stairs as he told Sirius off for various things.

“It’ll be nice, you staying with us for the rest of the holidays,” Fred said with a smile once they had closed the trunk. He wrapped his arms around her waist and grinned down at her. Even though Sarah had grown a few inches over the year and the holidays, Fred was still a good head taller than her.

“I’ve stayed with your family before,” Sarah pointed out, reaching up to rest her arms on Fred’s shoulders.

“Yes, but not as my girlfriend,” Fred clarified. “Mum is ecstatic. But I think a part of her always thought you would end up with Harry or Draco.”

“Oh no, those two belong together,” Sarah said, playing absentmindedly with the short hairs at the nape of his neck.

“Odds they’ll get together this year?” Fred grinned, his brown eyes twinkling mischievously.

Sarah rolled her eyes and gave him a chaste kiss.

“Very high, if I have anything to say about it,” she said, smirking.

“You little matchmaker,” Fred teased, pulling her in for a deeper kiss.

The sound of the doorbell ringing drew them apart.

“Sarah! Your better half is here!” Sirius shouted from downstairs. “Stop snogging your boyfriend and get down here!”

Sarah just rolled her eyes. If she kept that up her eyes were just going to roll out of her head one day.

Fred smirked broadly and grabbed her trunk with one hand and her hand with the other. They made their way downstairs to find Draco and Narcissa waiting in the parlour, impeccably dressed.

“Sarah!” Draco exclaimed when she came into view. “You changed your hair, _again_!”

It was true. Sarah had spent these holidays testing her abilities. It usually meant that she found herself with different hair colours and styles every day. Today, she had decided on long, slightly curling hair her natural auburn colour. Her eyes, however, were a stunning aquamarine colour with a ring of gold around the pupil.

“I like the eyes,” Draco commented, drawing her into a tight hug. “But I think mine are prettier.”

“Of course,” scoffed Sarah fondly. “How are you Narcissa? It’s lovely to see you again. This is my boyfriend, Fred Weasley.”

“Pleasure to meet you Mr Weasley,” Narcissa said warmly. “I am well, Sarah. Draco has been chattering non-stop about the World Cup, so good luck.”

“Mother!” Draco said in an affronted tone.

“It’s okay, Draco,” Sarah patted him on the head. “You, Ron and Harry can geek out to your hearts' desire while the adults talk.”

She laughed and stumbled into Fred as Draco shoved her gently, rolling his eyes exaggeratedly.

“Ready to go?” Remus said, emerging from the kitchen and smiling kindly at Narcissa.

“Draco has both their tickets,” Narcissa said, smoothing down Draco’s hair. “Be good and I’ll see next summer, I imagine you’ll want to stay at Hogwarts during Christmas break.”

“What? Why?” Sarah asked, looking to Draco in confusion.

“I’ll tell you later,” he said, brushing the questions away. “Let’s go, I want to see Ha – everyone.”

Sarah and Sirius shared a smirk but remained silent.

Narcissa bid them goodbye and before they knew it, Remus had dropped Fred, Sarah and Draco off at The Burrow. Mrs Weasley had immediately drawn Draco and then Sarah into bone-crushing hugs.

“It is _so_ lovely to see you both!” she gushed. “I’m so glad you’re staying the rest of the holidays. Sarah you’ll be staying with Hermione and Ginny and Draco, you’ll be with Harry and Ron. Harry arrived about an hour ago, I believe they are outside with George.”

Fred quickly put Sarah’s trunk in Ginny’s room, despite Sarah’s protests that she could do it herself.

“I’m your boyfriend,” he said in a tone which indicated it should be obvious, “it’s practically in my job description.”

The pair joined the others in the backyard. Harry, Ron, and Hermione immediately jumped up to embrace Sarah, having already greeted Draco.

“Harry was just telling us what happened when Dad and George went to pick him up,” Ron said, taking a seat beside Ginny and stealing a chocolate frog.

Sarah sat down beside George and leant up against Fred’s chest when he sat behind her, as Harry talked

“You’ll be pleased to know that the Ton-Tongue Toffees work,” George said to Fred gleefully. “Mum gave Dad a right earful when he explained what happened – we’re going to have to be on the lookout.”

“Ton-Tongue Toffees?” Sarah said in confusion, tilting her head back to peer at her boyfriend.

“George and I invented them year,” Fred explained. “It’s a sweet that makes your tongue swell uncontrollably. We’ve been hoping to find someone to test it for ages.”

“I dropped it in front of Harry’s cousin, the great pig ate a bunch of them at once,” George chortled.

“Aunt Petunia was _furious_ ,” Harry grinned. “Last I saw, Dudley’s tongue was a foot long.”

“Will he be okay?” Hermione said anxiously, but she was clearly trying to contain a smile.

“Who cares?” Harry, Ron, Fred and George said together.

“Dad fixed him right up,” George said. “Just have to tweak it a bit so it doesn’t suffocate the person who eats it…”

They spent the rest of the afternoon playing Quidditch and lounging in the sun until Mrs Weasley called them in for dinner.

“We’re eating out in the garden,” she said when they came in. “There’s just not room for thirteen people in here. Could someone take the plates outside, please? Bill and Charlie are setting up the tables. Knives and forks, please, you two.” She pointed at the twins with a harsh glance.

Mrs Weasley waved her wand a little more vigorously than she had intended at a pile pf potatoes in the sink, which shot out of their skins so fast that they ricocheted off the walls and ceiling.

“I’m guessing your father told her about the Toffee,” Sarah muttered to the twins as they ducked the starch projectiles.

“You would seem to be correct,” George mumbled back, hurriedly grabbing a handful of knives and forks and thrusting half of them into Fred’s hands. “I think we better vacate.”

Fred sent her a slightly worried look before rushing out of the kitchen after his brother.

“Oh for heaven’s _sake_ ,” Mrs Weasley snapped, now directing her wand at a dustpan, which hopped off the sideboard and started skating across the floor, scooping up the potatoes. “Those two!” she burst out savagely, now pulling pots and pans out of a cupboard. “I don’t know what’s going to happen to them, I really don’t. No ambition, unless you count making as much trouble as you can…”

Mrs Weasley slammed a large copper saucepan down on the kitchen table and began to wave her wand around inside it. A cream sauce poured from the wand-tip as she stirred. Draco, Harry, Ron and Hermione glanced at Sarah uncertainly before divvying up the plates between them and leaving the kitchen.

“It’s not as though they haven’t got brains,” Mrs Weasley continued irritably, oblivious to the nearly empty kitchen, “but they’re wasting them, and unless they pull themselves together soon, they’ll be in real trouble. I’ve had more owls from Hogwarts about them than the rest put together. If they carry on the way they’re going, they’ll end up in front of the Improper Use of Magic Office.”

Mrs Weasley jabbed her wand at the cutlery drawer, which shot open. Sarah jumped out of the way as several knives soared out of it, flew across the kitchen, and began chopping the potatoes, which had just been tipped back into the sink by the dustpan.

“Mrs Weasley…” Sarah said hesitantly, glancing at the door and wondering if it was worth making a run for it. “I think you need to look at it from another perspective…”

Mrs Weasley stopped what she was doing and turned around to look at Sarah, an inquisitive look on her face. Sarah took that as a good sign and continued,

“I think it takes a lot of ambition and creative-thinking to create tricks such as they have,” she said carefully, watching Mrs Weasley’s wand in trepidation. “They’re using the skills they _do_ have to create something that could become quite popular. They told me about the Toffee,” she added, noticing the twitch in Mrs Weasley’s eye, “it’s an ingenious product. And they were talking about needed to tweak it so it’s extremely safe and everything…” she trailed off uncertainly.

Taking a fortifying breath, she stepped forward and placed her arm lightly on Mrs Weasley’s.

“I think you need to give them a chance,” Sarah said quietly, “instead of shooting them down…maybe?”

“I don’t know where we went wrong with them, though,” said Mrs Weasley, putting down her wand and starting to pull out still more saucepans. “I would think that if they wanted to do something like that, they’d at least make the effort to be more prepared but they won’t listen to – OH NOT _AGAIN_!”

Sarah jumped a foot in the air at the sudden shout. Mrs Weasley had picked up her wand from the table, and it had emitted a loud squeak and turned into a giant rubber mouse.

“One of their fake wands again!” she shouted. “How many times have I told them not to leave them lying around?”

She grabbed her real wand and turned to find that the sauce on the stove was smoking.

Sarah could tell that Mrs Weasley was far too angry to listen to any more arguments so she made a quick exit from the kitchen.

A very loud crashing noise was coming from the other side of the house. The source of the commotion was revealed as Sarah entered the garden, and saw that Bill and Charlie both had their wands out, and were making two battered old tables fly high above the lawn, smashing into each other, each attempting to knock the other’s out of the air. Fred, George, Harry, and Ron were cheering, Ginny and Draco were laughing, and Hermione was hovering near the hedge, apparently torn between amusement and anxiety.

Bill’s table caught Charlie’s with a huge bang and knocked one of its legs off. There was a clatter from overhead, and they all looked up to see Percy’s head poking out of a window on the second floor.

“Will you keep it down?” he bellowed.

“Sorry, Perce,” said Bill, grinning. “How’re the cauldron bottoms coming on?”

“Very badly,” said Percy peevishly, and he slammed the window shut. Chuckling, Bill and Charlie directed the tables safely onto the grass, end to end, and then, with a flick of his wand, Bill reattached the table leg and conjured tablecloths from nowhere.

“Cauldron bottoms?” Sarah asked as she went to stand next to Hermione.

“Percy’s report for the Ministry,” Hermione said, smiling at the other girl.

Sarah raised an eyebrow. “Sounds…enlightening,” she muttered.

Out of nowhere, large hands wrapped around her neck loosely and began ruffling her hair.

“So _this_ is the unfortunate lady who’s dating our little brother,” Charlie’s voice came from above her and she pulled herself free of his grasp.

“What is it with all of you being so bloody _tall_ ,” she exclaimed, patting down her hair.

Charlie shot her a shit-eating grin. “Looks like you’re gonna have to get used to that sweetheart, if you keep up with dear Freddie.”

“More like if he keeps up with me,” Sarah said primly. “I have very high expectations.”

“You hear that, Fred?” Bill called to the twins. “You’ve got your work cut out for you.”

“I’d expect nothing else from my boyfriend,” Sarah said, a large smirk painting her face. “It’s a good thing he’s had you two as role models – there’s no way he could possibly go wrong now.”

Bill and Charlie burst into raucous laughter and ruffled her hair one more time despite her grumbling protests.

“My hair nearly looks as bad as yours,” Sarah muttered to Harry when the boys walked over to join them.

“No one’s hair could look as bad as Harry’s,” Draco teased, slinging an arm around Sarah’s shoulders. “You grew!”

“Fuck off!” Sarah pushed his arm off only to have him calmly put it back in place.

It was true though. All of them had grown over the summer. Sarah was pleased to see that she was catching up to Harry’s height, while Hermione remained an inch or two shorter than her. Ron and Draco, however, had shot up again, and both of them were nearly a head taller than Sarah.

By seven o’clock, the two tables were groaning under the dishes and dishes of Mrs Weasley’s excellent cooking, and the nine Weasleys, Harry, Draco, Sarah and Hermione were settling themselves down to eat beneath a clear, deep-blue sky.

At the far end of the table, Percy and his father were talking about a missing Ministry witch and an important event the Ministry needed to organise.

Sarah turned to Draco, who was sitting beside her and practically inhaling his food. She stared in shock, momentarily forgetting her original question. “Are you quite alright, Draco? Did Narcissa not feed you this holiday?”

Draco choked slightly. Harry hit the blonde’s back as Draco coughed and gulped down some water. Sarah raised an eyebrow and waited patiently.

“I – er – forgot to have breakfast or lunch today,” he admitted when he had finally calmed down. “I’m hungry.”

“You mean you slept in till the last minute and didn’t have any time to do anything but pack?” Sarah clarified, smirking in delight. “I’m touched that you were so excited to see _me_ ,” she added with a teasing tone.

Draco went bright pink and scowled, throwing a bread roll at her. She laughed and caught it, taking a large bite and winking at him. As she chewed, she remembered her first question.

“Hey, what was it you had to tell me?” she asked. “Before we left Remus’?”

“Oh,” Draco said, sitting up straight. “I’ll tell you after dinner. Fancy a walk?”

Mrs Weasley conjured up candles to light the darkening garden before they had their homemade strawberry ice cream, and by the time they had finished, moths were fluttering low over the table, and the warm air was perfumed with the smells of grass and honeysuckle.

“I’m going to have to decline the walk but I’ll happily take lying down and not moving for a while,” Sarah groaned as the table was cleared.

Draco grabbed her hand and led her to a clear patch of grass around the other side of the house. They could see open fields bathed in moonlight with the stars twinkling gleefully above them.

“Father was bragging to some businessmen last week about something happening at Hogwarts this year,” Draco said, reclining back to lie flat on the grass, his head pillowed by his folded arms. “When I asked him about it, he said that the Triwizard Tournament was going to be held at Hogwarts this year.”

“You’re _joking_!” Sarah exclaimed, looking at Draco in shock.

“That’s what I thought,” Draco said. “But then father began talking about it more and more – he’s a friend of the Durmstrang headmaster, did you know? Anyway, he ended up telling me that this would be the perfect opportunity for me to _expand my connections_ , in his words.” Draco scoffed and shook his head. “I intend on being friendly with the foreign students but not to spin his _political_ web.”

“So Durmstrang and who else?” Sarah asked, lying her head on Draco’s stomach.

“Beauxbatons,” he replied. “Good thing mother taught us French.”

“My father would be so pleased to hear that Beauxbatons was participating,” Sarah said sarcastically. “I believe he’s still trying to get me transferred there. I hope Madame Maxine has more sense than him.”

Draco laughed and threaded his fingers through her hair softly.

“I’m glad you enjoyed living with Remus this summer,” he said quietly. “I just wish you could have stayed with me.”

“Don’t be like that,” Sarah said, sitting up and placing a hand on his chest. “We’ll be together the entire year.”

Draco looked conflicted and then said softly, “But you’ve got Fred now, you won’t need me as much.”

Sarah felt her heart break slightly. “Oh, Draco, have you been worried about that?”

He nodded slightly and avoided her eyes. She grabbed his chin and turned it gently until grey eyes met blue.

“Fred will never replace you,” she promised. “You’ll always be the first person I turn to when I need to. I’m just lucky because now I have you _and_ Fred.”

Draco smiled sheepishly. “I know it’s silly but I couldn’t help thinking it.”

“It’s completely understandable,” Sarah reassured. “It’s a new dynamic for both of us. But you won’t be alone, you’ll have Harry.”

Draco blushed a violent red.

“How has that been going?” Sarah asked, lying down on top of Draco’s chest and resting her chin on her folded arms.

“We’ve been writing over the holidays,” Draco admitted, still blushing brightly. “We’re going to take it slow but – “ he hesitated before smiling wildly, “it’s been really nice. He cares for me the same way I care for him. I think that we’ll definitely be dating by next year, if not the end of this year.”

Sarah squealed slightly in excitement. “Oh, I am so _happy_ for you!”

Draco laughed as she buried her head in his chest. He began swatting her shoulders lightly.

“We better head to bed, we have an early start tomorrow,” he sat, sitting up and forcing Sarah to as well.

“Draco,” Sarah said.

He stood sitting up and looked at her in question.

“You know you’re my favourite person ever?” she asked seriously.

“Of course, I do,” he said, smiling brightly. “And you’re mine.”

Sarah beamed and kissed him on his cheek.

“Okay, let’s go,” she declared, pulling Draco to his feet. “I’m so glad I won’t have to deal with you tomorrow morning – it’ll be a _nightmare_!”

Draco’s affronted protests mingled with Sarah’s laughter and were swallowed up by the night as they walked back to the house.


	2. Chapter Two

Sarah felt as though she bad barely lain down to sleep in Ginny’s room before she was being shaken awake by Mrs Weasley.

“Time to go, Sarah, dear,” she whispered, moving away to wake Hermione and Ginny.

It was still dark outside. Mrs Weasley was stirring the contents of a large pot on the stove, while Mrs Weasley was sitting at the table, checking a sheaf of large parchment tickets. He looked up as the three girls entered and spread his arms so they could see his clothes more clearly. He was wearing what appeared to be a golfing sweater and a very old pair of jeans, slightly too big for him and held up with a thick leather belt.

“What d’you think?” he asked anxiously. “We’re supposed to go incognito – do I look like a Muggle, Hermione?”

“Yes,” said Hermione, “Very good.”

Sarah made a mental note to by Mr and Mrs Weasley some muggle clothes next time she went shopping in London. She had never been more thankful for dragging Ron, Harry and Draco with her and Hermione on one of their outings; they now had a nice selection of muggle appropriate clothing.

“Where’re Bill, Charlie and Per-Per-Percy?” said Ginny, failing to stifle a huge yawn.

“Well, they’re Apparating, aren’t they?” said Mrs Weasley, heaving the large pot over to the table and starting to ladle porridge into bowls. “So they can have a bit of a lie-in.”

Sarah sat down at the table and rubbed her face, forcing her eyes to stay open.

The boys began filing into the kitchen, pale and drowsy. Fred dropped a tired kiss to the top of Sarah’s hair before falling into the seat beside her. Within seconds, his head was resting on her shoulder and he was snoring slightly.

Sarah poked him but he snored on.

“Why do we have to be up so early?” Ron said, rubbing her eyes and sitting down at the table.

“We’ve got a bit of a walk,” said Mr Weasley.

Draco groaned and dropped his head to the table, narrowly missing his bowl of porridge. The thump woke Fred up, who looked around, blinking in confusion.

“Here,” Sarah said, pushing a bowl toward him. “Eat.”

“It’s very difficult for a large number of wizards to congregate without attracting muggle attention,” Mr Weasley was saying to Harry and Hermione. “We’ll be getting a Portkey because on such a huge occasion like the Quidditch World Cup – “

“George!” said Mrs Weasley sharply, and they all jumped.

“What?” said George in an innocent tone that deceived nobody.

“What is that thing in your pocket?”

“Nothing!”

“Don’t lie to me!”

Fred widened his eyes as Mrs Weasley pointed her wand at George’s pocket and said, “ _Accio!”_

Several small, brightly coloured objects zoomed out of George’s pocket; he made a grab for them but missed and they sped right into Mrs Weasley’s outstretched hand.

“We told you to destroy them!” said Mrs Weasley furiously, holding up what were unmistakably more Ton-Tongue Toffees. “We told you to get rid of the lot! Empty your pockets, go on, both of you!”

Sarah felt something press into her hand and subtly grabbed the toffees that Fred passed her, stuffing them into her pocket when Mrs Weasley’s back was turned.

It was an unpleasant scene; the twins had evidently been trying to smuggle as many toffees out of the house as possible, and it was only by using her Summoning Charm that Mrs Weasley managed to find them all. Well, all of them except the ones safely hidden in Sarah’s jeans.

“ _Accio! Accio! Accio!_ ” she shouted, and toffees zoomed from all sorts of unlikely places, including the lining of George’s jacket and the turn-ups of Fred’s jeans.

“We spent six months developing those!” Fred shouted at his mother as she threw the toffees away.

Sarah grabbed his hand and held it tightly to stop him from doing anything stupid.

“Oh what a fine way to spend six months!” Mrs Weasley shrieked. “No wonder you didn’t more O.W.L.s!”

All in all, the atmosphere was not very friendly when they took their departure. Mrs Weasley was still glowering as she kissed Mr Weasley on the cheek, though not nearly as much as the twins, who had each hoisted their rucksacks onto their backs and walked out without a word to her.

“Well, have a lovely time,” said Mrs Weasley, “and _behave yourselves_ ,” she called after the twins’ retreating backs, but they did not look back or answer.

It was chilly and the moon was still out. Only a dull, greenish tinge along the horizon to their right showed that daybreak was drawing closer. Sarah was walking beside Fred, whispering to him soothingly and holding his hand tight. When she began to shiver more intensely, he reached into his rucksack and pulled out an overlarge sweater for her.

In front of her, Mr Weasley was explaining to Harry how the Ministry set up locations to host wizards without the muggles finding out. Harry was listening intently and Sarah couldn’t help by smile at the soft look on Draco’s face as he watched the raven-haired boy eagerly ask question after question.

“Did she manage to get the toffees?” Fred whispered to her at one point.

“No,” Sarah said. She reached into her pocket and passed the toffees to Fred, who quickly stuffed them in his bag. “She didn’t point her wand at me.”

“You’re amazing,” he said, kissing the side of her head quickly.

“Oi, lovebirds,” George called from a few metres away. “Less smooching, more looking. We gotta find this Portkey before it leaves without us.”

Sarah and Fred rolled their eyes but separated, joining the others as the scanned the area for something old and trash-like.

“Over here, Arthur! Over here, son, we’ve got it!”

Two tall figures were silhouetted against the starry sky on the other side of the hilltop.

“Amos!” said Mr Weasley, smiling as he strode over to the man who had shouted. The rest of them followed.

Mr Weasley was shaking hands with Amos Diggory, a ruddy-faced wizard who worked in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Sarah and Draco had met him a few times through Lucius’ work at the Ministry.

Standing beside him was his son, Cedric Diggory, a handsome seventh year Hufflepuff. He was Captain and Seeker of his Quidditch team.

“Hi,” said Cedric, looking around at them all.

Everybody said hi back except Fred and George, who merely nodded. They had never quite forgiven Cedric for beating their team in the first Quidditch match of the previous year.

“Long walk, Arthur?” Cedric’s father asked.

“Not too bad,” said Mr Weasley. “We just live on the other side of the village there. You?”

Sarah ignored Mr Diggory’s reply. She leant against Fred and closed her eyes, smiling when she felt his arms wrap around her.

“Everyone gather round, now,” Mr Weasley said. “It’s a minute off…We’d better get ready…”

With some difficulty, the eleven of them crowded around the old boot held out by Amos Diggory.

“Three…” muttered Mr Weasley, one eye still on his watch, “two…one…”

It happened immediately: Sarah felt as though a hook just behind her navel had been suddenly jerked irresistibly forward. Her feet left the ground; she could feel Draco and Fred on either side of her, their shoulders banging into hers; they were all speeding forward in a howl of wind and swirling colour; her forefinger was stuck to the boot as though it was pulling him magnetically onward and then –

Her feet slammed into the ground; Draco staggered slightly into her and she held his taller figure upright. The Portkey dropped to the ground with a heavy thud.

Sarah looked around and sniggered when she saw all the other children on the ground. Draco offered a hand to Harry while Fred and George pulled themselves to their feet.

“How did you do that?” Fred asked as he rubbed his head where George had elbowed him.

“Many years of practice,” Sarah replied, still sniggering. She drew Fred down by the neck and kissed his forehead lightly, noticing a small smile blossom on his face.

“Seven past five from Stoatshead Hill,” said a voice.

In front of them was a pair of tired and grumpy-looking wizards, one of whom was holding a large gold watch, the other a thick roll of parchment and a quill. Both were dressed muggles, though very inexpertly in Sarah’s opinion: The man with the watch wore a tweed suit with thigh-length goloshes; his colleague, a kilt and poncho.

Draco had to move to the back of the group when he couldn’t contain his snickers.

“Morning, Basil,” said Mr Weasley, picking up the boot and handing it to the kilted wizard, who threw it into a large box of used Portkey’s beside him.

Before long, they had been told where to find their campsite from a confused looking muggle. The said goodbye to the Diggory’s and trekked to the blank spaces where their tents would go.

“Draco, Sarah,” Mr Weasley said once the shabby tents were set up, “Narcissa said that if you wanted to stay with her tonight in her tent you were more than welcome – she sent an owl last night.”

Sarah looked at Draco and saw that he looked hesitant to stay with his mother.

“Do we risk it?” she asked. “It would give others more space.”

“Risk it?” Harry said. “What you be risking?”

Draco ignored him and said, “It’s not worth it – we’ll be with the Weasleys anyway. There’s no point in going there for the night just to come back here in the morning.”

“What are you guys going on about?” Harry pressed.

“My father is attending the match,” Draco said sourly. “We’ll see him later in the Minister’s Box.”

“Ugh, it means I’ll have to be polite to him,” Sarah grouched, crossing her arms.

“He did get you a ticket,” Draco pointed out.

“He very nearly _didn’t_.”

“We’ll just stay here,” Draco decided.

“Probably best if you father wants to keep his hair blond,” Sarah said dryly.

“All right!” Mr Weasley announced, clearing his throat and presenting the finished tents. “Come have a look.”

Inside looked like an old-fashioned, three-room flat, complete with bathroom and kitchen. There were crocheted covers on the mismatched chairs and a strong smell of cats.

“Well, it’s not for long,” Mr Weasley said, peering inside a dusty kettle. “We’ll need water…”

“There’s a tap marked on this map that muggle gave us,” said Ron, who had followed Sarah inside the tent. “It’s on the other side of the field.”

“Well, why don’t you, Harry, Sarah, Hermione and Draco got and get us some water then” – Mr Weasley handed over a kettle and a couple of saucepans – “and the rest of us will get some wood for a fire?”

“But we’ve got an oven,” said Ron. “Why can’t we just – “

“Ron, anti-muggle security!” said Mr Weasley, his face shining with anticipation. “When real muggles camp, they cook on fires outdoors. I’ve seen them at it!”

Sarah blinked repeatedly at Mr Weasley in confusion. Ron just gaped and then closed his mouth, shaking his head and dragging Sarah out of the tent.

“Just don’t question it,” he said lowly. “Let’s get the others.”

Now that the sun had risen more, the campsite began to become visible. The first people to stir were families with small children; Sarah saw a tiny boy no older than two who was crouched outside a large pyramid-shaped tent, holding a wand and poking happily at a slug in the grass, which was swelling slowly to the size of a salami. As they drew level with him, his mother came hurrying out of the tent.

“ _How_ many times, Kevin? You – _don’t – touch – Daddy’s – wand –_ yecchh!”

She had trodden on the giant slug, which burst. Her scolding carried after them on the still air, mingling with the little boy’s yells – “You bust slug! You bust slug!”

A short way farther on, they saw two tiny little witches, barely older than Kevin, who were riding toy broomsticks that rose only high enough for the girls’ toes to skim the dewy grass. A Ministry wizard had already spotted them; as he hurried past the five of them he muttered distractedly, “In broad daylight! Parents having a lie-in, I suppose – “

Here and there adult wizards and witches were emerging from their tents and starting to cook breakfast. Some, with furtive looks around them, conjured fires with their wands; others were striking matches with dubious looks on their faces, as though sure this couldn’t work.

“Er – is it my eyes or has everything gone green?” said Ron.

It wasn’t just Ron’s eyes. They had walked into a patch of tents that were all covered with a thick growth of shamrocks so that it looked as though small, oddly shaped hillocks had sprouted out of the earth. Grinning faces could be seen under those that had their flaps open. Then, from behind them, they heard their names.

“Sarah! Harry! Draco! Ron! Hermione!”

It was Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas; they were sitting in front of their own shamrock-covered tent along with a sandy-hair woman who had to be Seamus’ mother.

“Like the decorations?” said Seamus, grinning. “The Ministry’s not too happy.”

“It’s – er – very _green_ ,” Sarah said simply, much too shocked to form a proper comment.

“I’d thought you’d be used to that, Sarah – it’s the Slytherin common room covered in it?” Dean asked, his lip twitching.

“Not quite that much,” Draco said diplomatically.

“Ah, why shouldn’t we show our colours?” said Mrs Finnigan. “You should see what the Bulgarians have got dangling all over _their_ tents.”

They wandered over to the Bulgarian tents next. The tents had not been bedecked with plant life, but each and every one of them had the same poster attached to it, a poster of a very surly face with heavy black eyebrows.

“Krum,” said Ron quietly.

“What?” said Hermione.

“Krum!” said Draco, excitedly. “Viktor Krum, the Bulgarian Seeker!”

“Please don’t ask,” Sarah begged. “It’s really not worth it.”

Draco and Ron both gasped in horror but thankfully didn’t begin a spiel about how amazing Krum was.

There was already a small queue for the tap in the corner of the field. The five of them joined right behind a pair of men who were having a heated argument. One of them was a very old wizard who was wearing a long flowery nightgown. There other was clearly a Ministry wizard; he was holding out a pair of pinstriped trousers and almost crying with exasperation.

“Just put them on, Archie, there’s a good chap. You can’t walk around like that, the muggle at the gate’s already getting suspicious – “

“I bought this in a muggle shop,” said the old wizard stubbornly. “Muggles wear them.”

“Muggle _women_ wear them, Archie, not the men, they wear _these_ ,” said the Ministry wizard and he brandished the trousers.

“I’m not putting them on,” said old Archie in indignation. “I like a healthy breeze ‘round my privates, thanks.”

Hermione and Sarah were both overcome with such a strong fit of the giggles at this point that they had to leave the queue and only returned when Archie had collected his water and moved away.

Walking back more slowly now, because of the weight of the water, they made their way back through the campsite. Here and there, they saw more familiar faces: other Hogwarts students with their families. Oliver Wood, the old Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, who had just left Hogwarts, dragged Harry over to his parents’ tent to introduce him and told them that he had just been signed to Puddlemere United reserve team. The saw Millicent Bulstrode and Pansy Parkinson with Millie’s parents. Pansy cooed over Sarah’s relationship with Fred and Sarah eventually had to forcibly drag Draco away by the ear to stop him from gossiping with the other girls.

“You’ve been ages,” said George when they finally got back to the Weasleys’ tents.

“Met a few people,” said Sarah, setting the water down. “You got the fire started yet?”

“Dad’s having fun with the matches,” said Fred, coming over and resting his arm around her shoulders. “We decided it was safer to leave it to him.

Mr Weasley was having no success at all in lighting the fires, but it wasn’t for lack of trying. Splintered matches littered the ground around him, but he looked as though he was having the time of his life.

“Oops!” he said as he managed to light a match and promptly dropped it in surprise.

“Come here, Mr Weasley,” said Hermione kindly, taking the box from him and showing him how to do it properly.

Once the fire was blazing in front of them, they all settled around it with a cup of tea. Mr Weasley kept up a running commentary of the various witches and wizards that walked past. At one point, Blaise Zabini strutted past with Theodore Nott, following Blaise’s beautiful mother and his newest stepfather.

Draco and Sarah had jumped up and embraced the two boys, chattering away about their holidays while Blaise’s mother watched on in interest.

“How is your mother, Draco?” Mrs Zabini asked during a break in the conversation. “I have yet to introduce her to my darling, Stephen.”

“She is very well, thank you for asking,” Draco said with a polite smile. “I believe she mentioned being in field three should you wish to find her.”

“Are you not staying with her?” Mrs Zabini asked in surprise. “Surely your father would not have let you stay with these, _Weasleys_ …” She scrunched her nose up at the shabby tents. Blaise’s dark complexion went slightly pink and he coughed politely into his hand.

“Well, as it may be,” Sarah said sweetly, “I am currently dating one of these _Weasleys_ , and our other friends are also staying with them.”

Mrs Zabini flushed slightly. “My apologies, Sarah, I did not mean to offend,” she said smoothly. “What is your father’s opinion on your relationship. I saw him just before and he did not mention it.”

“He is not aware of it,” Sarah said, her voice cold. “I must ask you to please excuse us, I’ve just remembered that I need to write to my godfather that I’ve arrived.”

Mrs Zabini noticed the dismissal and inclined her head in farewell.

“I’m sorry”, Blaise mouthed as they left, dark eyes pinched.

Sarah sat down heavily and tried to calm her breathing

“My father is here, Draco,” she said, panting slightly. “ _Here_!”

“It’ll be okay, Sarah,” promised Draco. “I doubt he’ll be up in the Minister’s Box with us – you won’t need to see him.”

“ _Where else would he go?”_ she asked shrilly. She couldn’t stand sitting so she stood up and began pacing, muttering fiercely. “This can’t be happening, this can’t be happening.”

“Sarah, breathe,” Fred said, standing and resting his hands on her shoulders.

She turned wild eyes on him and hid herself in his chest.

“I can’t see him. I _can’t!”_ she said miserably.

“You won’t have to,” Fred said. “And if he does go end up in the Minister’s Box, Draco, George and I won’t hesitate to push him over the edge.”

That startled a shaky laugh out of Sarah and she pulled back, her breathing even again.

“Okay, I’m good,” she said. “I’m fine. I’m good.”

“Why are you good?”

Charlie’s voice suddenly appeared behind her and before she could turn, he had gripped her around the waist and threw her over his shoulders, spinning around slightly. Fred barely had time to duck to miss getting hit with her feet.

“CHARLIE!” Sarah shrieked. “ _Put me down!_ ”

Charlie just let out a bark of laughter and ignored her. The others soon joined in laughing, except for Percy, who watched with an expression of disdain on his face.

Sarah attempted to hit Charlie’s back with her fists but years of working with dragons had given him a solid layer of muscle. At long last, Charlie finally placed her down, steadying her when she stumbled from dizziness.

“Better?” he said with a Cheshire cat smile.

“Fuck off,” Sarah muttered with a grin, gingerly sitting down again and leaning on Draco’s side.

“Aha!” Mr Weasley said suddenly, jumping to his feet. “The man of the moment! Ludo!”

Sarah grimaced and avoided eye contact with Ludo Bagman. She had had some interactions with him over the years due to the Malfoys’ large social events. As Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports, and a previous professional Quidditch player, Ludo Bagman was a usual fixture whenever Lucius Malfoy wanted to talk business.

Draco subtly turned away as Mr Weasley chatted to Ludo about the weather, until –

“As – yes,” said Mr Weasley, grinning, “this is my son Percy. He’s just started at the Ministry – and this is Fred – no, George, sorry – _that’s_ Fred – “ Sarah saw the twins bristle slightly. “ – Bill, Charlie, Ron – my daughter Ginny – and Ron’s friends, Hermione Granger, Sarah Deaumont, Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter.”

Bagman did the smallest of double takes when he heard Harry’s name, and his eyes performed the familiar flick upward to the scar on Harry’s forehead. He didn’t comment, however, and instead turned towards Draco and Sarah with a big smile.

“Malfoy! Deaumont! I didn’t see you two at Lucius’ most recent gathering! How are you finding school?” Bagman asked, reaching down to shake their hands vigorously.

“Most enjoyable, thank you,” Draco said, his Malfoy mask sliding into place. “And how is business?”

“Blooming, lad, blooming!” Bagman beamed. “I hear your father’s around, Miss Deaumont. Have you seen him?”

Sarah kept her polite façade fixed firmly on her face as she smiled and said, “Unfortunately no, Mr Bagman, I’m staying with my boyfriend and his family this summer.”

“That’s a shame,” Bagman shook his head comically. “I was hoping to discuss the goblins with Antonius, he always did know how to deal with them.”

“Indeed,” Sarah said emotionlessly.

“Fancy a flutter on the match, Arthur?” Bagman said eagerly, turning away from them and back toward Mr Weasley.

“If _one_ more person mentions my father, I swear I’ll hex them,” Sarah muttered under her breath to Draco, Harry, Hermione and Ron.

Harry just looked sympathetically at her and pat her knee gently.

Fred sat down next to her, a large grin on his face.

“Guess what?” he said, tucking a small slip of paper into his breast pocket.

“What?”

“Bagman liked our fake wands! He said he’d pay five Galleons for it!”

“That’s great but why were you showing Bagman the trick wand?” Sarah asked.

“We bet on the match that Ireland would win but Krum would catch the Snitch,” Fred explained. “Bagman threw in the extra Galleons for the wand.”

“Be careful with him, Fred,” Draco said in warning. “He’s had some history with not paying his debts. Keep that receipt and even make copies.”

“Thanks, little Malfoy,” Fred grinned.

“Do you have to call me that?” Draco groaned in annoyance. “I’m not _little_!”

Fred just snickered and turned back to a conversation with George and Bill.

A sense of excitement rose like a palpable cloud over the campsite as the afternoon wore on. By dusk, the still summer air itself seemed to be quivering with anticipation, and as darkness spread like a curtain over the thousands of waiting wizards, the last vestiges of pretence disappeared: the Ministry seemed to have bowed to the inevitable and stopped fighting the signs of blatant magic now breaking out everywhere.

Salesmen were Apparating every few feet, carrying trays and pushing carts full of extraordinary merchandise. There were luminous rosettes – green for Ireland, red for Bulgaria – which were squealing the names of the players, pointed green hats bedecked with dancing shamrocks, Bulgarian scarves adorned with lions that really roared, flags from both countries that played their national anthems as they were waved; there were tiny models of Firebolts that really flew, and collectable figures of famous players, which strolled across the palm of your hand, preening themselves.

“Wow, look at these!” said Harry, hurrying over to a cart piled high with Omnioculars.

“You can reply action…slow everything down…and they flash up a play-by-play breakdown if you need it,” said the salewizard eagerly. “Bargain – ten Galleons each.”

“Brilliant!” said Sarah, grabbing one and handing over the coins. “I promised Remus I’d record the match for him.”

Draco also bought a pair and Harry bought three for himself, Hermione and Ron, who went red with embarrassment. Ron always had an issue when it came to money, considering how the Weasleys were quite poor.

Their money bags considerably lighter, they went back to the tents. Bill, Charlie, and Ginny were all sporting green rosettes too, and Mr Weasley was carrying an Irish flag. Fred and George had no souvenirs as they had given Bagman all their gold.

Sarah walked over to the twins and handed them each and green rosette.

“I know you’re supporting Ireland but because I bought you stuff you also have to wear this,” she said, holding out a Bulgarian badge which flashed the faces of the players.

Fred took it and pinned it to his chest. “This seems like conflicting loyalty,” he said, raising an eyebrow at his brother.

Sarah shrugged, smiling unrepentantly. “As my boyfriend, you have to at least wear _something_ of the team I support.”

“But I’m not your boyfriend,” George whined. “Why do I have to wear it as well?”

“Because it’s better to suffer together than alone,” Sarah smirked, linking her arm with Fred and patting George consolingly on the head.

And then a deep, booming gong sounded somewhere beyond the woods, and at once, green and red lanterns blazed into life in the trees, lighting a path to the field.

“It’s time!” said Mr Weasley, looking as excited as any of them. “Come on, let’s go!”


	3. Chapter Three

Clutching their purchases, Mr Weasley led them through the dark woods, following the lantern-lit trail. They could hear the sounds of thousands of people moving around them, shouts and laughter, snatches of singing. The atmosphere of feverish excitement was highly infectious. Sarah caught Draco and Harry trying desperately to contain large grins that kept breaking out across their faces. The stadium itself was completely gold and towered above them into the black sky.

“Seat a hundred thousand,” said Mr Weasley proudly. “Ministry task force of five hundred have been working all year on it. Muggle Repelling Charms on every inch of it. Every time Muggles have got anywhere near here all year, they’ve suddenly remembered urgent appointments and had to dash away again…bless them,” he added fondly, leading the way toward the nearest entrance, which was already surrounded by a swarm of shouting witches and wizards.

“Prime seats!” said the Ministry witch at the entrance when she checked their tickets. “Top Box! Straight upstairs, Arthur, and as high as you can go.”

The stairs to the stadium were carpeted in rich purple. They clambered upward with the rest of the crowd, which slowly filtered away through doors into the stands to their left and right. Their party kept climbing and Sarah had never been more grateful for all the Quidditch practise she did. At last, they reached the top of the staircase and found themselves in a small box, set at the highest point of the stadium and situated exactly halfway between the golden goal posts. About twenty purple-and-gilt chairs stood in two rows here, and Sarah, filing into the front seats with the Weasleys, Hermione and Draco, looked down upon a scene the likes of which she had never seen before.

A hundred thousand witches and wizards were taking their places in the seats, which rose in levels around the long oval field. Everything was suffused with a mysterious golden light, which seemed to come from the stadium itself. The field looked smooth as velvet from their lofty position. At either end of the field stood three goal hoops, fifty feet high; right opposite them, almost at Sarah’s eye level, was a gigantic blackboard. Gold writing kept dashing across it as though an invisible giant’s hand were scrawling upon the blackboard and then wiping it off again; watching it, Sarah saw that it was flashing advertisements across the field.

“ _Dobby?”_

Sarah spun around at the sound of Harry’s incredulous voice to find him looking at a house-elf seated behind them.

“Did sir just call me Dobby?” squeaked the elf curiously from between its fingers. It was a female elf, as its voice was much higher than usual and it was wearing a longer traditional pillowcase. Ron, Hermione and Draco had also turned around at Harry’s question.

“Sorry,” Harry told the elf, “I just thought you were someone I knew.”

“But I knows Dobby too, sir!” squeaked the elf. She was shielding her face, as though blinded by the light, though the Top Box was not brightly lit. “My name is Winky, sir – and you, sir – “ Her dark brown eyes widened to the size of side plates as they rested upon Harry’s scar. “You is surely Harry Potter!”

“Yeah, I am,” said Harry.

“But Dobby talks of you all the time, sir!” she said, lowering her hand very slightly and looking awestruck.

“How is he?” said Sarah. “Is he doing all right?”

Winky turned her wide eyes on Sarah and squeaked again.

“You is Mistress Sarah!” Winky’s face darted to Draco beside her, “and you is Master Draco!”

“We saw Dobby at Hogwarts last year,” Draco said kindly, “He said he was enjoying himself. Has he talked to you about it at all?”

“Ah, sir,” said Winky, shaking her head, “ah, sir, meaning no disrespect, sir, but freedom is going to Dobby’s head, sir. Ideas above his station, sir.”

“What do you mean, Winky?” Sarah asked in concern.

“ _He is wanting paying for his work_ , _miss_ ,” Winky whispered sadly.

“Paying?” said Harry blankly. “Well – why shouldn’t he be paid?”

Winky looked horrified at the idea and closed her fingers slightly so her face was half-hidden again. Sarah quickly jumped in before the house-elf got overwhelmed.

“Harry,” she said quietly, “house-elves don’t get paid for their work. It’s a magical agreement – an exchange if you will. A house-elf binds themselves to a wizard or witch or a household for work and in exchange, the inherent magic within the person or house allows the elf to prosper and live.”

Harry looked at her in confusion and Hermione was starting to look outraged.

“But that’s servitude!” Hermione exclaimed. “How can someone willing bind themselves to someone else just to be a slave?”

“Hermione,” Draco said quietly, his grey eyes darting to Winky, “house elves will die if they’re not surrounded by magic.”

Hermione and Harry looked stunned.

“That’s why nearly all the old wizard families have house-elves and why magical buildings like Hogwarts and Ministry have them,” Sarah explained. “It’s to make sure that the species doesn’t die out.”

“But your father treated Dobby horribly,” Harry said to Draco, brow furrowed in confusion. “How is that fair?”

Draco sighed. “Most masters should treat their house-elves with respect but I know they don’t. It’s quite horrible,” he said. “Mother always taught me to treat a house-elf the same way I would want to be treated if I worked for someone. The only difference is that they don’t work for money.”

“My master is very good to me!” Winky added brightly. “He took me in when my mother’s masters died. Winky will always do what he asks! I is not liking heights but my master sends me to the Top Box and I comes, sirs and misses.”

Sarah cringed slightly. Winky’s words didn’t really help the discussion. “Hermione, I know it doesn’t sound fair,” Sarah said as Hermione opened her mouth, “but this is centuries worth of agreements that we’re talking about. It’s a mindset and a lifestyle now that can’t be easily changed. We just need to make sure we’re polite to the elves – they _enjoy_ doing what we ask.”

Hermione huffed and opened the program violently, disappearing behind it.

“That went well,” Sarah muttered to Draco and Harry.

She leant against Fred on her other side and sighed as he began threading his fingers through her hair.

“A display from the team mascots will precede the match,” Ron read aloud, looking at the program over Hermione’s shoulder.

“Oh that’s already worth watching,” said Mr Weasley. “National teams bring creatures from their native land, you know, to put on a bit of a show.”

The box filled gradually around them over the next half hour. Mr Weasley kept shaking hands with people who were obviously very important wizards. Percy jumped to his feet so often that he looked as though he were trying to sit on a hedgehog. More than once, Sarah and Draco found themselves drawn into conversation with a witch or wizard who knew their parents. When Cornelius Fudge, the Minister for Magic, entered the box, he greeted Harry, Sarah and Draco like old friends.

“Harry Potter, you know,” he told the Bulgarian minister loudly, who was wearing splendid robes of black velvet trimmed with gold and didn’t seem to understand a word of English. “ _Harry Potter_ …oh come one, you know who is is…the boy you survived You-Know-Who…you _do_ know who he is – “

The Bulgarian wizard suddenly spotted Harry’s scar and started gabbling loudly and excitedly, pointing at it. Sarah began to snicker as Draco calmly began a conversation with the Bulgarian minister in Bulgarian, causing Fudge’s, Harry’s and the Weasleys’ eyes to pop out of their head. Sarah interjected a comment every so often but left Draco to his own devices.

“I actually do speak English,” the Bulgarian minister said in a whisper in his native tongue. “It is just very funny watching the little man blunder.”

Sarah laughed and avoided meeting Fudge’s eyes.

“You both would have been extremely helpful before; I usually need Barty Crouch for this sort of thing. Ah, and here’s Lucius!”

Sarah and Draco shot their heads up at Lucius and Narcissa entered the box, followed closely by Sarah’s father.

Dread began to coil in her stomach but she kept a blank expression on her face.

“Hello, Draco, Sarah,” Lucius’ said once he had stopped before them. “Minister, how are you? You remember Narcissa and Antonius Deaumont?”

“Indeed I do,” Fudge said, taking Narcissa’s hand and placing a light kiss on it. Sarah couldn’t help but grin slightly at the fixed expression on Narcissa’s face – she did not want to be there. “Lovely as ever Narcissa. And Antonius! I was just speaking with your daughter, she’s grown into a lovely young woman.”

The temperature in the box seemed to drop a few degrees as Antonius and Sarah stared at each other.

“She has,” Antonius said with a cruel twist to his mouth. “I am very… _proud_ of her.”

“Allow me to introduce you to the Mr Oblansk – Obalonsk – Mr - well, he’s the Bulgarian Minister of Magic and he can’t understand a word I’m saying anyway, so never mind. And let’s see who else – you know Arthur Weasley, I daresay?”

It was a tense moment, nearly even more so than Sarah and her father’s standoff. Lucius’s cold grey eyes swept over Mr Weasley and then up and down the row.

“Good lord, Arthur,” he said softly. “What did you have to sell to get seats in the Top Box? Surely your house wouldn’t have fetched this much?”

“Father…” Draco said in a low tone. Narcissa placed her hand on Lucius’ arm and shot him a warning look.

Fudge, who wasn’t listening, said, “Lucius and Antonius have just given a _very_ generous contribution to St. Mungo’s Hospital, Arthur. They’re here as my guests. I noticed that Draco and Sarah were with you though, why was that?”

“I’m currently dating Fred Weasley and Draco and I will be staying with them for the remainder of the summer,” Sarah said, looking directly at her father. His brown eyes glowed with hatred.

“Congratulations then! We’ll I have to keep making my rounds, it was lovely seeing you all!” Fudge said. “Lucius, Antonius, come with me, I have somebody I’d like to introduce you to.”

After they had left, Narcissa stepped forward and embraced Draco and then Sarah.

“Stay in your tents tonight,” she whispered anxiously to them both. “I heard your fathers talking earlier – I don’t know what it means but _stay in your tent_.”

“Mother – “

“I love you both, be safe,” Narcissa interrupted. She placed light kisses on both their foreheads before disappearing.

“What do you think she meant?” Sarah asked Draco as they took their seats again.

“I have no idea,” he answered, worry covering his face.

A second later, Ludo Bagman charged into the box.

“Everyone ready?” he said, his round face gleaming like a great, excited Edam. “Minister – ready to go?”

“Ready when you are, Ludo,” Bagman said comfortably.

Ludo whipped out his wand, directed it at his own throat, and said “ _Sonorus!”_ and then spoke over the roar of sound that was now filling the packed stadium; his voice echoed over them, booming into every corner of the stands.

“Ladies and gentlemen…welcome! Welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!”

The spectators screamed and clapped. Thousands of flags waved, adding their discordant national anthems to the racket. The huge blackboard opposite them was wiped clear of its last message and now showed BULGARIA: 0, IRELAND: 0.

“And now, without further ado, allow me to introduce…the Bulgarian National Team Mascots!”

The right-hand side of the stands, which was a solid block of scarlet, roared its approval.

“I wonder what they’ve brought,” said Mr Weasley, leaning forward in his seat. “Aaah!” He suddenly whipped off his glasses and polished them hurriedly on his robes. “ _Veela_!”

“What are veel - ?” Harry began but was cut off by a hundred veela gliding out onto the field. Veela were exceptionally beautiful women with white-gold hair and moon-bright skin.

Then the veela started to dance. Sarah watched in amusement as the men in the box became entranced by the veela, pressing closer toward the front of the box to get a better view. Fred made a choked noise and gripped George’s shirt with one hand and Sarah with the other, blinking furiously.

Draco looked around in surprise and blushed when he realised what was happening.

“Why are they doing that?” Harry whispered to Draco and Sarah, indicating Bill, Ron and George, who looked ready to jump out of the box.

Sarah beamed at the oblivious boys as Draco told Harry that veelas enticed men and women through attraction and sometimes caused them to act without thought. Harry furiously blushed a bright red at the implication of his lack of action as Draco smiled at him.

“Boys, if you don’t want to out yourselves to Draco’s parents, try acting a bit confused,” Sarah advised, inclining her head in Lucius and Narcissa’s direction.

Immediately, they both stiffened and shot their eyes toward the field.

“Ronald, what _are_ you doing?” said Hermione’s voice from a few seats down.

Ron was frozen in a pose that looked as though he were about to go dive from a springboard. Hermione tutted and pulled him back to his seat by his collar. Sarah got up and stood in front of Bill and George, pushing them back in their seats while Charlie and Fred kept a strong grip on their shirts.

At last, the music stopped. Angry yells were filling the stadium, interspersed with some laughter from amused partners. Ron, meanwhile, was absentmindedly shredding the shamrocks on his hat. Mr Weasley, smiling slightly, leaned over to Ron and tugged the hat out of his hands.

“You’ll be wanting that,” he said, “once Ireland have had their say.”

“Huh?” said Ron, staring open-mouthed at the veela, who had now lined up along one side of the field.

“And now,” roared Ludo Bagman’s voice, “kindly put your wands in the air…for the Irish National Team Mascots!”

Next moment, what seemed to be a great green-and-gold comet came zooming into the stadium. It did one circuit of the stadium, then split into two smaller comets, each hurtling toward the goalposts. A rainbow arced suddenly across the field connected the two balls of light. The crowd gasped as though at a fireworks display. Now the rainbow faded and the balls of light reunited and merged; they had formed a great shimmering shamrock, which rose up into the sky and began to soar over the stands. Something like golden rain seemed to be falling from it –

“Excellent!” yelled Ron as the shamrock soared over them, and heavy gold coins rained from it, bouncing off their heads and seats. Squinting up at the shamrock, Sarah realised it was actually comprised of thousands of tiny bearded men with red vests, each carrying a minute lamp of green or gold.

“Leprechauns!” said Mr Weasley over the tumultuous applause of the crowd, many of whom where still fighting and rummaging under their chairs to retrieve the gold.

“Don’t bother,” Draco said to Harry. “It’s Leprechaun gold – it disappears in a few hours.”

The great shamrock dissolved, the leprechauns drifted down onto the field on the opposite side from the veela and settled themselves cross-legged to watch the match.

“And now, ladies and gentlemen, kindly welcome – the Bulgarian National Quidditch Team! I give you - Dimitrov!”

A scarlet-clad figure on a broomstick, moving so fast it was blurred, shot out onto the field from an entrance far below, to wild applause from the Bulgarian supporters.

“Ivanova!”

A second scarlet-robes figure zoomed out.

“Zograf! Levski! Vulchanov! Volkov! Aaaaaaand – _Krum!”_

“That’s him, that’s him!” shouted Draco, following Krum with his Omnioculars. Sarah quickly started recording on her own and set them up so that the whole pitch could be seen.

Viktor Krum was thin, dark, and sallow-skinned, with a large curved nose and thick black eyebrows. He looked like an overgrown bird of prey. It was hard to believe he was only eighteen.

“And now, please greet – the Irish National Quidditch Team!” yelled Bagman. “Presenting – Connolly! Ryan! Troy! Mullet! Moran! Quigley! Aaaaaaand – _Lynch!_ ”

Seven green blurs swept onto the field, all riding shinning Firebolts.

“And here, all the way from Egypt, our referee, acclaimed Chairwizard of the International Association of Quidditch, Hassan Mostafa!”

A small and skinny wizard, completely bald but with a ginormous moustache, wearing robes of pure gold to match the stadium, strode out onto the field. A silver whistle was protruding from under his moustache, and he was carrying a large wooden crate under one arm, his broomstick under the other. Sarah watched closely through her Omnioculars as Mostafa mounted his broomstick and kicked the crate open – four balls burst into the air: scarlet Quaffle, the two black Bludgers and the minuscule, winged Golden Snitch. With a sharp blast on his whistle, Mostafa shot into the air after the balls.

“Theeeeeeeey’re OFF!” screamed Bagman. “And it’s Mullet! Troy! Moran! Dimitrov! Back to Mullet! Troy! Levski! Moran!”

It was one of the fastest Quidditch games Sarah had ever seen. The speed of the players was incredible – the Chasers were throwing the Quaffle to one another so fast that Bagman only had time to say their names.

“TROY SCORES!” roared Bagman, and the stadium shuddered with a roar of applause and cheers. “Ten zero to Ireland!”

Troy did a lap over honour around the field. The leprechauns had all risen into the air again and formed the great, glittering shamrock. Across the field, the veela were watching them sulkily.

The Irish Chasers were superb. They worked as a seamless team, their movements so well coordinated that they appeared to be reading one another’s minds as they positioned themselves, and the rosette on Fred’s chest kept squeaking their names. Within ten minutes, Ireland had scored twice more, bringing their lead to thirty-zero and causing a thunderous tide of roars and applause from the green-clad supporters.

“Come on Bulgaria!” Draco shouted.

The match became still faster, but more brutal. Volkov and Vulchanov, the Bulgarian Beaters, were whacking the Bludgers as fiercely as possible at the Irish Chasers, and were starting to prevent them from using some of their best moves; twice they were forced to scatter, and then, finally, Ivanova managed to break through their ranks; dodged the Keeper, Ryan; and score Bulgaria’s first goal.

“Fingers in your ears!” bellowed Mr Weasley as the veela started to dance in celebration.

Sarah and Draco screamed in celebration, Draco with his fingers in his ears.

“Dimitrov! Levski! Dimitrov! Ivanova – oh I say!” roared Bagman.

One hundred thousand wizards gasped as the two Seekers, Krum and Lynch, plummeted through the centre of the Chasers, so fast that it looked as though they had just jumped from the top of a tower without wings.

“They’re going to crash!” screamed Hermione next to Harry.

She was half-right – at the very last second, Viktor Krum pulled out of the dive and spiralled off. Lynch, however, hit the ground with a dull thud that could be heard throughout the stadium. A huge groan rose from the Irish seats.

“Fool!” moaned Fred. “Krum was feinting!”

“It’s time-out!” yelled Bagman’s voice, “as trained mediwizards hurry onto the field to examine Aidan Lynch.”

“He’ll be okay, he only got ploughed!” Charlie said reassuringly to Ginny, who was handing over the side of the box, looking horror-struck. “Which is what Krum was after, of course…”

Krum was now circling high above Lynch, who was being revived by the mediwizards with cups of potion. He was using the time while Lynch was revived to look for the Snitch without interference.

“He did the Wronski Feint!” Draco said in excitement. “Amazing!”

Sarah had forgotten how excited Draco got for Quidditch matches; it was like a child in a candy store. His whole face was lit up with excitement, his grey eyes shining. Sarah caught Harry staring at Draco and winked at the dark-haired boy, who flushed and turned away in embarrassment.

“Take _that_ , Ireland!” Draco shouted.

“Brave words from someone surrounded by Irish supporters,” Ron said, staring at Krum in awe.

“This is what it feels like being in the middle of the Gryffindor stands during a school match,” Sarah commented in a dry voice.

“Only now you’re wearing red, not green,” Fred winked.

“Outrageous, I say,” Sarah smirked.

Lynch got to his feet at last, to loud cheers from the green-clad supporters, mounted his Firebolt, and kicked back off into the air. His revival seemed to give Ireland new heart. When Mostafa blew his whistle again, the Chasers moved into action with a skill unrivalled by anything Sarah had seen so far.

After fifteen more fast and furious minutes, Ireland had pulled ahead by ten more goals. They were now leading one hundred and thirty points to ten, and the game was starting to get dirtier.

As Mullet shot toward the goalposts yet again, clutching the Quaffle tightly under her arm, the Bulgarian Keeper, Zograf, flew out to meet her. Whatever happened was over so quickly that Sarah didn’t catch it, but a scream of rage from the Irish crowd, and Mostafa’s long, shrill whistle blast, told her it had been a foul.

“And Mostafa takes the Bulgarian Keeper to task for cobbing – excessive use of elbows!” Bagman informed the roaring spectators. “And – yes, it’s a penalty to Ireland!”

The leprechauns, who had risen angrily into the air like a swarm of glittering hornets when Mullet had been fouled, now darted together to form the words “HA, HA, HA!”. The veela on the other side of the field leapt to their feet, tossed their hair angrily, and started to dance again.

As one, the Weasley boys stuffed their fingers into their ears, quickly followed by Harry and Draco. Sarah, however, began tugging on Draco’s arm. He turned to look at her and pulled his fingers out of his hears.

“Look at the referee!” she said, giggling.

Hassan Mostafa had landed right in front of the dancing veela and was acting very oddly indeed. He was flexing his muscles and smoothing his moustache excitedly. Sarah collapsed laughing against Fred and took his fingers out of his ears to keep her from falling off her chair.

“Now, we can’t have that!” said Ludo Bagman, though he sounded highly amused. “Somebody slap the referee!”

A mediwizards came tearing across the field, his fingers stuffed into his own ears, and kicked Mostafa hard in the shins. Mostafa seemed to come to himself; Sarah, watching through her Omnioculars again, saw that he looked exceptionally embarrassed and had started shouting at the veela, who had stopped dancing and were looking mutinous.

“And unless I’m much mistaken, Mostafa is actually attempting to send off the Bulgarian team mascots!” said Bagman’s voice. “Now _there’s_ something we haven’t seen before…Oh, this could turn nasty…”

And it did: the Bulgarian Beaters, Volkov and Vulchanov, landed on either side of Mostafa and began arguing furiously with him, gesticulating toward the leprechauns, who had now gleefully formed the words “HEE, HEE, HEE.” Mostafa was not impressed the Bulgarian’s arguments, however; he was jabbing his finger into the air, clearly telling them to get flying again, and when they refused, he gave two short blasts on his whistle.

“ _Two_ penalties for Ireland!” shouted Bagman, and the Bulgarian crowd howled with anger. “And Volkov and Vulchanov had better get back on those brooms…yes…there they go…and Troy takes the Quaffle…”

Play now reached a level of ferocity beyond anything they had yet seen. The Beaters on both sides were acting without mercy: Volkov and Vulchanov, in particular, seemed not to care whether their clubs made contact with Bludger or human as they swung them violently through the air. Dimitrov shot straight at Moran, who had the Quaffle, nearly knowing her off her broom.

“ _Foul!_ ” roared the Irish supporters as one, all standing up in a great wave of green.

“Foul!” echoed Bagman’s magically magnified voice. “Dimitrov skins Moran – deliberately flying to collide there – and it’s got to be another penalty – yes, there’s the whistle!”

The leprechauns had risen into the air again, and this time, they formed a giant hand, which was making a very rude sign indeed at the veela across the field. At this, the veela lost control. Instead of dancing, they launched themselves across the field and began throwing what seemed to be handfuls of fire at the leprechauns. Watching through her Omnioculars, Sarah saw that they didn’t look remotely beautiful now. One the contrary, their faces were elongating into sharp, cruel-beaked bird heads, and long, scaly wings were bursting from their shoulders –

“And _that_ , boys,” yelled Mr Weasley over the tumult of the crowd below, “is why you should never go for looks alone!”

Ministry wizards were flooding onto the field to separate the veela and the leprechauns, but with little success; meanwhile, the pitched battle below was nothing to the one taking place above. Sarah turned this way and that, staring through her Omnioculars, as the Quaffle changed hands with the speed of a bullet.

“Levski – Dimitrov – Moran – Troy – Mullet – Ivanova – Moran again – Moran – MORAN SCORES!”

But the cheers of the Irish supporters were barely heard over the shrieks of the veela, the blasts now issuing from the Ministry members’ wands and the furious roars of the Bulgarians. The game recommended immediately; now Levski had the Quaffle, now Dimitrov –

The Irish Beater Quigley swung heavily at a passing Bludger and hit it as hard as possible toward Krum, who did not duck quickly enough. It hit him full in the face.

There was a deafening groan from the crowd; Krum’s nose looked broken, there was blood everywhere, but Hassan Mostafa didn’t blow his whistle. He had become distracted, and Sarah couldn’t blame him; one of the veela had thrown a handful of fire and set his broom tail alight.

Draco was shouting time out for Krum but no one was listening.

“ _Look at Lynch!”_ yelled Harry suddenly.

The Irish Seeker had suddenly gone into a dive.

“He’s seen the Snitch!” Harry continued shouting. “He’s seen it! Look at him go!”

Half the crowd seemed to realise what was happening; the Irish supporters rose in another great wave of green, screaming their Seeker on…but Krum was on his tail. How he could see where he was going, Sarah had no idea; there were flecks of blood flying through the air behind him, but he was drawing level with Lynch now as the pair of them hurtled toward the ground again –

“They’re going to crash!” shrieked Hermione.

“They’re not!” roared Ron.

“Lynch is!” yelled Harry, Draco and Sarah together.

They were right – for the second time, Lynch hit the ground with tremendous force and was immediately stampeded by a horde of angry veela.

“The Snitch, where’s the Snitch?” bellowed Charlie, along the row.

“He’s got it – Krum’s got it – it’s all over!” shouted Harry.

Krum, his red robes shining with blood from his own nose, was rising gently into the air, his fist held high, a glint of gold in his hand.

The scoreboard was flashing BULGARIA: 160, IRELAND: 170 across the crowd, who didn’t seem to have realised what had happened. Then, slowly, the rumbling from the Ireland supporters grew louder and louder and erupted into screams of delight.

“IRELAND WINS!” Bagman shouted, who like the Irish, seemed to be taken aback by the sudden end of the match. “KRUM GETS THE SNITCH – BUT IRELAND WINS – good lord, I don’t think any of us were expecting that!”

Sarah turned to Fred and George to see them staring at the field, slightly dumbstruck.

“You were right!” she cried, throwing her arms around Fred’s neck. “You were right!”

She drew Fred in close and kissed him squarely on the lips, much to his delight.

“Vell, ve fought bravely,” said a gloomy voice behind Sarah. She pulled back from Fred to see the Bulgarian Minister of Magic smiling down at their row.

“You can speak English!” said Fudge, sounding outraged. “And you’ve been letting me mime everything all day!”

“Vell, it vos very funny,” said the Bulgarian minister, shrugging and winking at Sarah and Draco.

“Did you know?” Fudge cried at them but before they could reply, Bagman’s voice filled the box again.

“And as the Irish team performs a lap of honour, flanked by their mascots, the Quidditch World Cup itself is brought into the Top Box!” roared Bagman.

Sarah’s eyes were suddenly dazzled by a blinding white light, as the Top Box was magically illuminated so that everyone in the stands could see the inside. Squinting toward the entrance, she saw two panting wizards carrying a vast golden cup into the box, which they handed to Cornelius Fudge, who was still looking very disgruntled that he’d been using sign language all day for nothing.

“Let’s have a really loud hand for the gallant losers – Bulgaria!” Bagman shouted.

And up the stairs into the box came the seven defeated Bulgarian players. The crowd below was applauding appreciatively; Sarah could see thousands and thousands of Omnioculars lenses flashing and winking in their direction.

One by one, the Bulgarians filed between the rows of seats in the box, and Bagman called out the name of each as they shook hands with their own minister and then with Fudge. Krum, who was last in line, looked a real mess. Two black eyes were blooming spectacularly on his bloody face. He was still holding the Snitch. Sarah noticed that he seemed much less coordinated on the ground. He was slightly duck-footed and distinctly round-shouldered. But when Krum’s name was announced, the whole stadium gave him a resounding, ear-splitting roar.

And then came the Irish team. Aidan Lynch was being supported by Moran and Connolly; the second crash seemed to have dazed him and his eyes looked strangely unfocused. But he grinned happily as Troy and Quigley lifted the Cup into the air and the crowd below thundered its approval. Sarah’s hands were numb from clapping.

The box began to empty slightly as the Irish team and some dignitaries left. Mr Oblanksi, the Bulgarian minister, dragged Sarah and Draco over to the team to introduce them. Sarah thought Draco was going to pass out from excitement as he was given autograph after autograph. Sarah had fun chatting with Levski and Krum about some of their moves before she excused Draco and herself, pulling the starstruck boy away and back to the Weasleys.

Fred and George had cornered Ludo Bagman and had matching smirks adorning their faces, hands outstretched as Bagman counted coins into them.

Ron was staring at Sarah and Draco with blatant jealousy and Harry was trying to hide behind Charlie’s bulky figure so that Fudge wouldn’t draw him into any conversations.

“Let’s go back to the tent, shall we?” Mr Weasley said, a giant smile on his face.


	4. Chapter Four

“ _Don’t_ tell your mother you’ve been gambling,” Mr Weasley implored Fred and George as they all made their way slowly down the purple-carpeted stairs.

“Don’t worry, Dad,” said Fred gleefully, “we’ve got big plans for this money. We don’t want it confiscated.”

Mr Weasley looked for a moment as though he was going to ask what these big plans were, but seemed to decide, upon reflection, that he didn’t want to know.

They were soon caught up in the crowds now flooding out of the stadium. Raucous singing was borne toward them on the night-air as they retraced their steps back to the tents. Once they arrived, they all crowded into the boy’s tent, grabbing cups of hot chocolate and recounting various aspects of the game.

“Okay, I have a bone to pick with those two,” Ron said suddenly, pointing his finger at Sarah and Draco accusingly. “Three years we’ve been friends and you never _once_ mentioned you both speak Bulgarian.”

Sarah smirked into her cup as Draco rolled his eyes.

“It’s not something that comes up in daily conversation, Ronald,” Draco drawled. “But for your knowledge, my father was insistent on me going to Durmstrang instead of Hogwarts – he’s friends with the headmaster.”

“Then how come Sarah speaks it, too?” Ron grouched.

“I very rarely left Draco’s side as a child,” Sarah said, making kissing faces at Draco. “It meant that I suffered through every language lesson alongside him. I got payback when my father insisted on me learning Italian because _his_ father was born in Italy.”

“Wait – I know you speak French as well,” Harry said. “How many languages _do_ you speak?”

“Well, mother and Narcissa both taught us French growing up,” Sarah started.

“Mother was a Black and they had the tradition of speaking French,” Draco interjected.

“And we learnt obviously learnt Bulgarian and Italian,” continued Sarah, listing them on her fingers. “Our tutors taught us Latin and Greek and we spent a few months in Germany a few years back so we know passable German.”

“So, six?” Draco concluded, checking over everything in his head. “We can identify a few more because of our father’s work but those are the only ones we can fluently speak. Sarah has an odd hobby of learning a new language whenever she gets bored, she picks them up quite easily.”

“All except Portuguese,” she muttered bitterly. “Pansy has been trying to teach me for years to no avail. The only thing I can successfully say is, ‘I’m so confused’.”

“Well, that’s because Pansy is your teacher,” Draco pointed out, reclining against the couch next to Harry. “Anyone would struggle with her teaching them.”

Sarah snorted into her hot chocolate and moved it away quickly to avoid spilling it.

The conversation veered away from them and crept late into the night. It only stopped when Ginny fell asleep right at the tiny table and spilt hot chocolate all over the floor. Sarah sat up from where she had been resting against Fred’s chest, half asleep.

The girls bid the boys goodnight and crawled into the other, smaller tent. Sarah fell onto her bunk, still fully clothed and immediately passed out.

She was suddenly awoken by loud bangs and screams.

“What’s going on?” she asked hazily, rubbing her eyes and fighting a yawn.

She could tell that something was very wrong. The noises in the campsite had changed. The singing had stopped. She could hear screams and the sound of people running.

Mr Weasley appeared inside their tent.

“Girls! Get up, now! This is urgent!” he cried, already retreating from the entrance flap.

“ ‘S’ matter?” Ginny said, yawning loudly.

“We have to go!” Sarah shouted, jumping off her bunk and pulling Hermione down from the one above her.

They quickly threw on shoes and jumpers and joined the boys outside. Fred immediately grabbed her hand.

By the lights of the few fires that were still burning, Sarah could see people running away into the woods, fleeing something that was moving across the field toward them, something that was emitting odd flashes of light and noises like gunfire. Loud jeering, roars of laughter, and drunken yells were drifting toward them; then came a burst of strong green light, which illuminated the scene.

A crowd of wizards, tightly packed and moving together with wands pointed straight upward, was marching slowly across the field. Sarah squinted at them and held back a scream as she realised they were wearing dark hoods and masks. High above them, floating along in midair, four struggling figures were being contorted into grotesque shapes. It was as though the masked wizards on the ground were puppeteers, and the people above them were marionettes operated by invisible strings that rose from the wands into the air. Two of the figures were very small.

More wizards were joining the marching group, laughing and pointing up at the floating bodies. Tents crumpled and fell as the marching crowd swelled. Once or twice Sarah saw one of the marchers blast a tent out of his way with his wand. Several caught fire. The screaming grew louder.

The floating people were suddenly illuminated as they passed over a burning tent and Sarah recognised one as the muggle who had directed them toward their campsite that morning. The other three looked as though they might be his wife and children. One of the marchers below flipped the woman upside down with his wand; her nightdress fell down to reveal drawers and she struggled to cover herself up as the crowd below her screeched and hooted with glee.

“That’s sick,” Ron muttered, watching the smallest Muggle child, who had begun to spin like a top, sixty feet above the ground, his head flopping limply from side to side. “That is really sick…”

“Hermione!” Sarah suddenly shouted, turning to the bushy-haired witch. “You need to get out of here!”

“What – Sarah?” Hermione stuttered fearfully.

“They’re after Muggles and Muggleborns!” Sarah shouted. “If they find you, they’ll hurt you!”

“But how will they know - ?”

“My father’s there!” sobbed Sarah. “He has to be!”

Stunned silence met her words as everyone looked from her to the crowd and back.

“Sarah’s right,” Draco said at last. “My mother warned us earlier – we didn’t know what she meant. Our fathers are there.”

“Then you have to get out of here as well,” Fred said suddenly. “Not to be harsh but your fathers don’t really like you two right now.”

“Fred’s right,” Mr Weasley said gravely. “You all need to go. Head into the woods, find somewhere safe – I’ll come find you when I can.”

Bill, Charlie and Percy emerged from the boy's tent, their sleeves rolled up and their wands out.

“We’re going to help the Ministry!” Mr Weasley shouted. “Go! _Stick together_!”

The four of them turned and began sprinting toward the oncoming marchers.

“C’mon,” said Fred, grabbing Ginny’s hand with his free one and started pulling her and Sarah toward the wood. Harry, Ron, Hermione, Draco and George followed.

The crowd surrounded them, pushing them in every direction. As it thickened, Sarah was wrenched from Fred’s grasp and pushed further away from the group.

“SARAH!” she heard Fred shout but she couldn’t fight her way back toward him.

The crowd carried her into the dark woods and she broke away at the first opportunity. She spun around in the darkness, blurred shapes moving past her.

“Oh fuck this,” she muttered. “ _Lumos!”_

Her wand tip lit up and she froze when she realised that she had not been drawn into the woods but actually back toward the growing marching crowd. The wizards were close enough that she could see their masks glinting silver in the light from the flaming tents. A harsh, familiar laugh made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end and she spun around, holding her wand in front of her to navigate the debris left behind by the retreating campers.

She raced into the trees and hid behind a large trunk, slowing her breathing down. She knew it was a bad idea but she began to wander around slowly, eyes open for anybody she recognised. The woods were quieting down now as witches and wizards disapparated away, regular cracks sounding through the night.

A hint of white-blond illuminated by the moonlight made her freeze and cover her mouth. She slowly crept toward it, her wand raised.

“Sarah!”

Narcissa Malfoy appeared before her and Sarah nearly sobbed with relief. Narcissa drew her into her warm arms, holding her shaking body tightly.

“What are you doing here? Where’s Draco and the Weasleys?”

“We got separated,” Sarah gasped, holding the older witch close.

“Come with me,” Narcissa said quickly, grasping Sarah’s hand firmly. “We can’t stay here.”

“My father is there, isn’t he?” Sarah asked as they ran through the trees and back toward one of the camp fields.

“Not here,” Narcissa hissed.

They eventually reached a large, elegant tent set up close to the forest but far away from the still marching crowd.

“In, in,” Narcissa said as she ushered Sarah inside.

The inside was exactly as Sarah imagined it would look. Luxurious tapestries and rugs covered the walls and floors and comfy, refined furniture was scattered throughout the open space. Sarah knew that down the hall there were four bedrooms, two large bathrooms, and a kitchen and study.

Narcissa led her to long chaise lounge and sat her down, waving her wand to summon steaming cups of tea.

“I warned you to stay inside your tents,” Narcissa said, her hands shaking slightly.

“We had no choice,” Sarah exclaimed. “They were coming straight at us!”

Narcissa sighed deeply, small lines appearing at the corner of her startling grey eyes.

“Father and Lucius were there, weren’t they?” Sarah asked quietly, staring at Draco’s mother.

Narcissa nodded sadly. “They were. Lucius was talking about it, all hypothetically of course, but then after the match, he went back to Antonius’ tent and…”

She trailed off. Neither needed the sentence finished.

They sat in tense silence until the sounds of screaming and marching disappeared. Narcissa got up and carefully checked outside before coming back inside and grabbing her wand up.

“The Ministry has managed to stop them,” she said, a slight note of relief evident in her tone. “We need to get you back the Weasley’s tent before Lucius gets back.”

Sarah stood up quickly and Narcissa vanished their tea. Gripping her surrogate mother’s hand tightly, Sarah followed her carefully through the silent campsite, both of them ducking behind tents whenever they heard someone nearby.

To Sarah’s great relief, they quickly reached the Weasley’s tent, where they could hear frantic voices issuing outside.

“We have to go and find her!” Fred’s voice said loudly. “She’s smart. She would have found somewhere to hide!”

“Fred, I know you’re worried, I am too,” said Mr Weasley’s voice. “But with the Mark out there, the Ministry will be combing the woods and campsite for anyone left alone. They’ll find her.”

Sarah gasped quietly and looked into the sky. Horror curled in her stomach at the sight of the Dark Mark – Voldemort’s sign – hovering above the woods. Narcissa’s grip on her hand tightened and they hurried closer to the tent where Draco’s angry voice could now be heard.

“But what if _they_ got her?” he was shouting. “Her crazy father was out there! He wouldn’t hesitate to hurt her – he’s done it before!”

Narcissa pushed open the tent’s flap and ducked inside, followed quickly by Sarah.

Gasps of surprise and then relief sounded as the occupants registered who had arrived.

“Oh thank Merlin,” Fred said as he slammed into her, holding her tightly to his chest. “I was so worried. I thought you’d been hurt.”

“I’m fine,” Sarah said, hugging him back tightly. “Narcissa found me in the woods.”

“Mother!” Draco said, latching onto his mother until Sarah was free. “It was father wasn’t it?”

“Draco, I cannot stay,” Narcissa said instead, not answering Draco’s question. “I must leave now that Sarah is safe with you.”

“But – “

“I will write to you, my love,” Narcissa said, kissing Draco on the hair before nodding at Mr Weasley and leaving the tent.

Bill was sitting at the small kitchen table, holding a bedsheet to his arm, which was bleeding profusely. Charlie had a large rip in his shirt and Percy was sporting a bloody nose. Everyone else was unharmed but safe.

Fred led Sarah to the couch and they squeezed themselves next to Harry and George.

“What happened to you?” Harry asked Sarah.

“After the crowd separated us, I was pushed back toward the campsite. After I – ” Sarah said, hesitating slightly and changing track. “Well, then I ran into the forest and found Narcissa and she took me back to her tent. We stayed there until it had quieted down and now here I am.”

“Sarah…” Draco said quietly, noticing her hesitation, “who did you see?”

“Fuck, you’re good at that,” muttered Sarah. She sighed and avoided eye contact. “I didn’t _see_ anyone, per se. I heard some familiar laughter and then when I asked Narcissa she confirmed it.” Sarah looked directly at Mr Weasley. “Father and Lucius Malfoy were both out there tonight.”

Draco groaned and sat at her feet, putting his face in his hands.

“I suspected as much,” Mr Weasley said grimly. “We can’t, however, prove anything without having caught them.”

“So, you didn’t get any?” Sarah asked and Mr Weasley shook his head. “Do you know who conjured the Dark Mark?”

Harry, Ron, Hermione, Draco and Mr Weasley suddenly looked very uncomfortable.

“No,” said Mr Weasley. “But we found Barty Crouch’s elf holding Harry’s wand. We’re none the wiser who actually conjured the Mark.”

“ _What?_ ” said Bill, Charlie and George together.

“Harry’s wand?” said Fred and Sarah.

“ _Mr Crouch’s elf?_ ” said Percy, sounding thunderstruck.

With some assistance from Harry, Ron, Hermione and Draco, Mr Weasley explained how the children had heard the incantation for the Mark and then Mr Crouch’s elf had been discovered holding Harry’s wand where the Mark was summoned from. Mr Crouch had then dismissed the elf.

Harry cut off a blooming fight between Percy and Hermione about elf rights by saying, “Look, can someone just explain what that skill thing was? Why is it such a big deal?”

“The Dark Mark is Voldemort’s symbol,” Sarah said gloomily, ignoring the flinches of the Weasley’s around her. “He marked his followers with it and summoned it above houses where the Death Eaters had killed someone – it was a symbol of terror.”

“It hasn’t been seen since his downfall,” Draco added, twisting his hands in an obvious sign of discomfort. “Seeing it tonight just destroyed thirteen years of peace.”

“The Death Eaters Disapparated when the Mark appeared,” Mr Weasley said. “They couldn’t have been too pleased to see it. If they really were some of the original Death Eaters, then they worked very hard to keep out of Azkaban by denying they’d ever been involved with You-Know-Who.”

“Does this mean that Voldemort –“ nearly everyone flinched as Harry spoke – “sorry, sorry, You-Know-Who could be trying to gather followers again?”

An uneasy silence followed his words.

“Harry, we can’t really be sure that Voldemort can come back…” Mr Weasley said carefully.

“Dumbledore thinks so,” Harry argued. “And I’ve fought him twice already. I’d say it’s a possibility.”

Sarah winced at the memory of fighting Quirrell in their first year.

“Right now, all we can do is try to get some rest,” Mr Weasley said tiredly, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “We’ll be leaving first thing tomorrow.”

They separated for bed, with only a bit of reluctance from Draco, who didn’t want to let Sarah go, but eventually relented when Harry gently guided him away by the hand.

Sarah collapsed on the bunk in the tent she shared with Hermione and Ginny, wide awake. A moment later, she felt a small body climb in beside her and curl tightly around her side.

“I didn’t want to be alone,” whispered Ginny, shivering slightly. “Can I stay?”

Sarah wrapped an arm around the younger girl. “Of course, Gin.”

Hermione dropped down a second later, having heard the conversation.

“Move over, I’m coming in as well.”

Somehow, the three of them made space on the tiny cot and managed to fall into a fitful sleep, tightly wound around each other and savouring the comfort it provided.


	5. Chapter Five

The managed to get a Portkey back to Stoatshead Hill before the sun had fully risen. It was a quick but tense walk back to the Burrow, where Mrs Weasley broke down into uncontrollable tears when she saw them, hugging the twins especially tightly. They all sat in tense, exhausted silence for the rest of the day.

The rest of the holidays began to pass quickly after that. Mr Weasley and Percy spent most of their time at the Ministry, dealing with the backlash caused by the media’s articles. Sarah Flooed back to Remus’s house for a few nights to reassure him and Sirius that they were all fine and unharmed. Narcissa sent Draco a carefully worded letter expressing that she too was fine and to stay out of trouble this year.

Mrs Weasley went and got their school supplies one day and they spent the next few days packing and finishing any holiday work they hadn’t completed.

Narcissa also owled over some dress robes for Draco, Sarah and surprisingly enough, Harry. Everyone except Draco and Sarah was confused as to why they needed dress robes but the pair refused to ruin the surprise for the others.

The end of the holidays arrived extremely quickly and before they knew it, they were on the Hogwarts Express and chugging away toward Scotland, raining thundering down outside.

Their friends popped in every so often to say hi but their compartment spent the trip in relative silence, as Harry recounted a dream he had of Voldemort a few days before the Quidditch World Cup. The atmosphere was still tense even when Hogwarts appeared hours later.

As the train doors opened, there was a rumble of thunder overhead. Hermione bundled Crookshanks in her cloak and Ron draped his horrid, outdated dress robes over his owl’s, Pidwigeon, cage. Hedwig had flown to Hogwarts earlier in the day, so Harry had left her empty cage with his trunk.

The carriages trundled up the sweeping drive, swaying dangerously in what was fast becoming a gale. Lightning flashed across the sky as their carriage came to a halt before the great oak front doors. People who had occupied the carriages in front were already hurrying up the stone steps into the castle. The five of them jumped down from their carriage and dashed up the stairs too, looking up only when they were safely inside the cavernous, torch-lit entrance hall, with its magnificent marble staircase.

“Blimey,” said Ron, shaking his head and sending water everywhere, “if that keeps up the lake’s going to overflow. I’m soak – ARRGH!”

A large, red, water-filled balloon had dropped from out of the ceiling onto Ron’s head and exploded. Drenched and sputtering, Ron staggered sideways into Harry, just as a second water bomb dropped – narrowly missing Sarah, it burst at Draco’s feet, sending a wave of cold water over his shoes and socks. People all around them shrieked and started pushing one another in their efforts to get out of the line of fire.

“OI! Not my girlfriend, Peeves!” Fred shouted from somewhere nearby, glaring up at the Poltergeist who was hovering twenty feet above them, his wide, malicious face contorted with concentration as he took aim again.

“PEEVES!” yelled an angry voice. “Peeves, come down here at ONCE!”

Professor McGonagall, deputy headmistress and Head of Gryffindor House, had come dashing out of the Great Hall; she skidded on the wet floor and grabbed Hermione around the neck to stop herself from falling.

“Ouch – sorry, Miss Granger – “

“That’s all right, Professor!” Hermione gasped, massaging her throat.

“Peeves, get down here NOW!” barked Professor McGonagall, straightening her pointed hat and glaring upward through her square-rimmed glasses.

“Not doing nothing!” cackled Peeves, lobbing a water bomb at several fifth-year girls, who screamed and dived into the Great Hall. “Already wet, aren’t they? Little squirts! Wheeeeee!” And he aimed another bomb at a group of second years who had just arrived.

“I shall call the headmaster!” shouted Professor McGonagall. “I’m warning you, Peeves – “

Peeves stuck out his tongue, threw the last of his water bombs into the air, and zoomed off up the marble staircase, cackling insanely.

“Well, move along, then!” said Professor McGonagall sharply to the bedraggled crows. “Into the Great Hall, come on!”

Sarah and Draco said goodbye to the others and took their seats at the Slytherin table, greeting Blaise, Pansy, Millicent and Theo.

“Hey guys,” Blaise said in a conspiratorial whisper, leaning his head close over the table. The others all ducked their heads forward to hear him. “I managed to smuggle in something so we can celebrate the first night back. You interested?”

Draco looked at Sarah, an eyebrow raised. She shrugged.

“Might as well,” she muttered. “We just better not get caught.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Blaise waved. “I’ve got some hangover potions in case we need them. Who’s most likely to snitch to Snape? Crabbe and Goyle or Daphne and Davies?”

“Crabbe and Goyle,” the others said in unison.

“Looks like we’re using your room, girls – can you deal with the other two?” Blaise said, grinning ear to ear.

Pansy nodded. “Tracey won’t want to stay once she hears you guys are coming in. Daphne might actually be interested in joining.”

“Daphne’s not too bad actually,” Millicent said. “She just usually keeps to herself or hangs out with her younger sister.”

“Great!” Blaise whispered excitedly. “We’ll come to yours after dinner.”

“I grab some snacks on the way back,” Sarah said and the others nodded excitedly.

The sorting and feast thankfully passed quickly. Dumbledore finally got to his feet and the entire hall fell into silence. He spoke of the usual rules and reminders, but an uproar started at his next announcement.

“It is also my painful duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year.”

Sarah could see Harry, Fred and George wearing identical dumbstruck expressions, mouths opening and closing in horror.

“This is due to an event that will be starting in October, and continuing throughout the school year, taking up much of the teachers’ time and energy – but I am sure you will all enjoy it immensely,” Dumbledore continued. “I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts – “

But at that moment, there was a deafening rumble of thunder and the doors of the Great Hall banged open again.

A man stood in the doorway, leaning upon a long staff, shrouded in a black travelling cloak. Every head in the Great Hall swivelled toward the stranger, suddenly brightly illuminated by a fork of lightning that flashed across the ceiling. He lowered his hood, shook out a long man of grizzled, dark grey hair, and began to walk up to the teachers’ table.

A dull _clunk_ echoed through the Hall on his every other step. He reached the end of the top table, turned right, and limped heavily toward Dumbledore. Another flash of lightning crossed the ceiling. Pansy gasped.

The lightening had thrown the man’s face into sharp relief, and it was a face unlike any Sarah had ever seen before. It looked at though it had been carved out of weathered wood by someone who had only the vaguest idea of what human faces were supposed to look like, and was none too skilled with a chisel. Every inch of skin seemed to be scarred. The mouth looked like a diagonal slash, and a large chunk of the nose was missing. But it was the man’s eyes that made him frightening.

One of them was small, dark and beady. The other was large, round as a coin, and a vivid, electric blue. The blue eye was moving ceaselessly, without blinking, and was rolling up, down, and from side to side, quite independently of the normal eye – and then it rolled right over, pointing into the back of the man’s head so that all they could see was whiteness.

The stranger reached Dumbledore. He stretched out a hand that was as badly scarred as his face, and Dumbledore shook it, muttering words Sarah couldn’t hear. The stranger sat down, shook his mane of hair out of his face, pulled a plate of sausages toward him, raised it to what was left of his nose and sniffed it. He then took a small knife out of his pocket, speared a sausage with it and began to it. his normal eye was fixed upon the sausages but the blue eye was still darting restlessly around in its socket, taking in the Hall and the gaping students.

“May I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?” said Dumbledore brightly into the silence. “Professor Moody.”

Blaise was staring at the professor was an expression of pure morbid curiosity.

“ _That’s_ Alastor Moody?” he said, tilting his head in reflection of a predator examining its prey. “He’s a bit of an odd one, isn’t he?”

“No wonder mother never wanted us to meet him,” Draco said, watching the professor as he pulled a hip flask out of his coat and took a long swig from it.

“Well, that and the fact that he tried to arrest all our parents,” Pansy said delicately.

They all flinched slightly.

“This year should be interesting,” Theo muttered into his goblet.

Dumbledore cleared his throat.

“As I was saying,” he said, smiling at the sea of dumbstruck students, “we are to have the honour of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event that has not been held for over a century – “

“For good reason,” Draco muttered quietly.

“ – It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year,” Dumbledore finished.

“You’re JOKING!” said Fred loudly from the Gryffindor table.

The tension that had filled the Hall ever since Moody’s arrival was broken. Nearly everyone laughed and Dumbledore chuckled appreciatively.

“I am _not_ joking, Mr Weasley,” he said, “though now that you mention it, I did hear an excellent one over the summer about a troll, a hag and a leprechaun who all go into a bar…”

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat loudly.

“Er – but maybe this is not the time…no…” said Dumbledore, “where was I? Ah yes, the Triwizard Tournament. One champion will be chosen from each of the competing schools to represent them in three tasks over the course of the year. The Heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving with their short-listed contenders in October and the selection of the three champions will take place at Halloween. An impartial judge will decide which students are most worthy to compete for the Triwizard Cup, the glory of their school, and a thousand Galleons personal prize money.”

At every House table, Sarah could see people either gazing raptly at Dumbledore or else whispering fervently to their neighbours. But then Dumbledore spoke again, and the Hall quieted once more.

“Eager though I know all of you will be to bring the Triwizard Cup to Hogwarts,” he said, “the Heads of the participating schools, along with the Ministry of Magic, have agreed to impose an age restriction on the contenders this year. Only students who are of age – seventeen or older – will be allowed to put forward their names for consideration. This” – Dumbledore raised his voice slightly, for several people had made noises of outrage at these words, and the Weasley twins were suddenly looking furious – “is a measure we feel is necessary, given that the tournament tasks will still be difficult and dangerous, whatever precautions we take, and it is highly unlikely that students below sixth and seventh year will be able to cope with them. I will be personally making sure that no underage student is able to submit their name to the impartial judge.”

The speech soon ended and the massive crowd of students began to leave the Hall for their common rooms. Fred, George and Harry immediately veered toward the Slytherin group and caught them in the entrance hall.

“Did you two know?” Fred demanded once they had found a spot to talk out of the flow of the crowd. “Did you know this was happening?”

“Father mentioned it over the holidays and I told Sarah,” Draco admitted. “We wanted it to be a surprise.”

“I hope neither of you is thinking of entering,” Sarah said in warning, sending pointed glances at the twins.

“We’re seventeen in April,” George said as though that was a valid reason to enter. “They’re not going to stop us from entering.”

“It’s not going to work,” said Sarah.

“We’ll see…” smirked Fred.

“I’m staying as far away from that judge as I possibly can,” Harry shuddered. “With my luck, I’d get chosen without even putting my name in.”

“Good idea,” Draco said.

“Anyway, sorry to ditch you guys but we’ve got somewhere to be,” Sarah said, pecking Fred quickly on the mouth and giving the other two hugs. “Blaise has brought us a little surprise to celebrate the start of term.”

Fred’s eyes glinted in interest. “Can we join?” he said with a sly smile, leaning down to place a longer kiss on Sarah’s lips.

She smiled into it and pulled away. “Nope!” she said brightly. “Slytherins only. We’ll see you guys tomorrow. Bonne nuit!”

Sarah linked her arm through Draco’s and dragged him down to the dungeons.

***

“So, Pansy,” Blaise said, smiling devilishly at the dark-haired girl, “truth or dare?”

Pansy, Millicent, Theo, Draco, Blaise, Daphne and Sarah were all sitting in a loose circle on the floor of the girl’s dorms. Blaise had triumphantly pulled out two hidden bottles of Firewhiskey from his trunk and presented them to the group.

At first, they were all a little apprehensive. The only experience they had had with alcohol previously was small glasses of champagne or wine at various formal events. After a few glasses, however, they were all feeling warm and slightly fuzzy.

“Hmmm,” Pansy said, thinking carefully as she leant up against Millicent, “dare!”

“I dare you to flirt with Longbottom tomorrow at breakfast,” said Blaise, his teeth gleaming brightly in the dimly lit room. Only a few candles flickered around the large space, casting moving shadows on the walls and roof.

Pansy’s face scrunched up in disgust. “Ugh, fine,” she relented. “He’s a nice enough bloke, I guess. Just not my type.”

“Mmm,” Sarah agreed. “He’s finally started growing more.”

“Okay, next!” Pansy clapped. “Draco! Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“Is your hair _actually_ that colour naturally?” Pansy asked, looking at Draco’s platinum locks suspiciously. “I don’t think it is.”

Draco spluttered in anger, swaying slightly into Sarah.

“How _dare_ you?” he slurred in indignation. “This is one hundred per cent Malfoy breeding! There’s nothing _unnatural_ about my hair colour!”

“Except all the inbreeding that achieved it,” Sarah snorted.

Draco broke out into helpless giggles, quickly followed by the others in the group.

“Theo, truth or dare?” Draco said, looking hazily in Theo’s direction.

“Let’s go dare,” Theo said, not sounding too enthusiastic.

“I dare you to stick your head out the window,” Draco grinned. “Only for a moment.”

Theo rose on unsteady feet and headed toward the window. A protective barrier kept the water a few inches away from the window itself. Theo opened it widely, took a deep breath, and thrust his head into the cold water of the lake.

A second later he wrenched his head back in and slammed the window shut, yelping slightly at the temperature. He shook his wet hair like a dog and stumbled back to his seat, smirking triumphantly at the others.

“Easy,” he said. “Blaise, truth or dare?”

“Truth,” Blaise said easily, taking another sip of Firewhiskey. He grimaced as it slid down his throat.

“Was that rumour about you snogging that fifth year actually true?” Theo asked innocently.

Blaise glowered slightly and took another sip.

“Oh I definitely snogged a fifth year,” he said, “just not the one who started the rumour. It was actually her girlfriend I snogged. I didn’t know they were dating at the time – caused quite a bit row apparently.”

“Blaise!” Daphne said, scandalised before she burst into laughter.

“Good kisser though,” Blaise said, a smug smile on his face. “And talking about kissing…”

He sent a razor-sharp smile in Sarah’s direction. “Truth or dare, Sarah, love?”

Sarah rolled her eyes. “Dare,” she said. She knew that no matter what she chose it would end badly for her.

Blaise’s eyes lit up. “I know you’ve got a strong, handsome lover boy waiting for you upstairs, but I want to see you snog Draco – ten seconds, not a second less.”

“Blaise, your fantasies worry me,” Sarah said, moving to face Draco regardless.

Draco raised an eyebrow at her and she rolled her eyes, grabbing his head and pulling him in for a kiss. Ten seconds later, they broke apart, each wearing identical expressions of disgust.

“Never, _ever_ make me do that again,” Sarah said, wiping her mouth viciously. “Draco is a fantastic kisser but that was just so wrong.”

Draco shuddered beside her. “You’re telling me,” he said.

Blaise was rolling on the floor in fits of laughter.

“I didn’t actually think you’d _do_ it!” he cackled. “Oh, your _faces_!”

“Blaise, truth or dare?” Sarah said sweetly.

“Dare,” he choked out without thinking. His eyes widened slightly in fear as he realised what she’d said.

“Brilliant,” Sarah grinned. “I dare you to wear one of my skirts to breakfast tomorrow, _and_ ,” she emphasised, cutting of Blaise’s protests, “you have to tell Snape that you feel more comfortable in it. Wear it the entire day or I’ll charm your eyebrows off for a month.”

Blaise contemplated the options for a long while, debating which would be more destructive to his reputation. At long last, he stuck out a dark hand.

“Very well,” he said, shaking Sarah’s hand firmly. “But I know I will be _stunning_ in a skirt.”

***

The next morning, whispers and laughter followed their group all the way into the Great Hall. Blaise was standing unashamedly in Sarah’s skirt, the material going to just below his mid-thigh.

He strutted to the Slytherin table, ignoring the way that everyone’s eyes bugged out of their heads when he passed. Sarah, Pansy and Draco were barely able to walk straight, they were laughing so hard.

Tears of mirth blinded Sarah as she fell into a seat opposite Blaise, who was primly eating his breakfast without a care in the world.

“What are you doing, Mr Zabini?” Snape’s harsh snarl cut through their laughter as he swooped down from the teachers’ table.

“I’m enjoying a lovely breakfast, sir,” Blaise said innocently. “The house-elves have really gone all out this morning.”

Snape’s hand clenched on the pile of timetables he was holding. Draco’s face was turning bright red as he struggled to contain his laughter.

“I _meant_ ,” Snape hissed. “Why are you wearing a _skirt_?”

“Oh, that?” Blaise said, nonchalantly. “I simply felt more comfortable in it. Trousers are quite restricting, aren’t they? This at least gives me and myself _much_ more freedom, are you get my meaning?”

Snape’s lips thinned significantly and his nostrils flared. Sarah was barely able to draw in a breath.

“Mr Zabini, you will leave this Hall instantly and return wearing the _appropriate_ uniform,” Snape snarled.

“Technically, sir, this _is_ the appropriate uniform,” Blaise said evenly. “I don’t think you can tell me whether it’s right or wrong to feel comfortable in particular clothes or not, regardless of the _designated_ gender. You wouldn’t want to cause any misunderstandings, now would you sir?”

Snape’s eyes narrowed and he glared wholeheartedly at Blaise.

“Twenty points from Slytherin!” he snapped, before spinning around and walking away in a flare of black cloak.

Sarah, Draco and Pansy collapsed to the table, laughing uncontrollably.

“That – was – _amazing_!” Draco gasped.

“Do I even want to ask?”

Harry’s voice appeared above them and Sarah turned to see him smiling down at them, his eyebrow raised in question. She pushed Draco roughly across the seat to make room for Harry and quickly explained the dare she had given Blaise.

“And he just let you?” Harry asked in astonishment.

“Oh, I'll definitely pay for it later,” Blaise said, shaking his head. “I’m glad it’s not winter yet or else I’d be freezing my balls off in this.”

Draco exploded with laughter again and didn’t manage to calm down until they arrived in Charms twenty minutes later.

Blaise kept to his word and wore the skirt the entire day, turning heads wherever he went.

Professor Sprout even complimented him on his daring and gave Slytherin twenty points during their Herbology lesson after lunch. The Gryffindors had nearly shat themselves laughing during their morning Care of Magical Creatures lesson and Hagrid had been so confused and startled that he forgot to set them any homework.

“Maybe I should wear a skirt more often,” Blaise commented to Sarah and Pansy as they made their way to dinner after their Ancient Studies class, “if it gets me out of homework.”

They were stopped, however, by a large crowd gathered in the entrance hall. Crabbe was standing in front of Ron and Harry, waving a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ in Ron’s face.

“Oh, this can’t be good,” Sarah muttered, pushing through the crowd to stand beside Harry. Both the boys were fuming as Crabbe read aloud an article about Mr Weasley helping Alastor Moody the day before.

“And there’s a picture, Weasley!” said Crabbe, flipping the paper over and holding it up. “A picture of your parents outside their house – if you can call it a house! Your mother could do with losing a bit of weight, couldn’t she?”

Draco had appeared on the other side of the crowd and was watching the interaction with growing anger.

Ron was shaking with anger. Everyone was staring at him.

“Get stuffed, Crabbe,” said Harry. “C’mon, Ron…”

“Oh yeah, you were staying with them this summer, weren’t you, Potter?” sneered Crabbe. “So tell me, is his mother really that porky, or is it just the picture?”

“What about _your_ mother, Crabbe?” Sarah snarled as Hermione and Harry held back Ron. “Last I heard she was _thoroughly_ enjoying herself in America after your father disgraced himself.”

Crabbe’s pale face went slightly pink.

“At least my mother didn’t off herself to get away from me,” Crabbe hissed, drawing his wand and pointing it at Sarah as she turned away. Draco rushed forward, his own wand drawn.

BANG!

Several people screamed – Sarah felt something white-hot graze the side of her face – she plunged her hand into her robes for her wand but before she’d even touched it, he heard a second loud BANG and a roar that echoed through the entrance hall.

“OH NO YOU DON’T LADDIES!”

Sarah spun around. Professor Moody was limping down the marble staircase. His wand was out and it was pointing right at two ferrets, one pure white and the other a dirty brown, which were shivering on the stone-flagged floor, exactly where Crabbe had been standing.

Sarah looked around in growing horror as she realised that Draco, too, had disappeared. She glanced down at the white ferret and screamed.

“DRACO!”

She rushed forward toward the white ferret and went to pick him up, but suddenly he disappeared into the air.

Sarah stood up to see Moody moving his wand up and down, the ferrets following his movement – they flew ten feet into the air, fell with a smack to the floor, and then bounced upward once more.

“LET HIM GO!” shrieked Sarah, trying to catch the ferret but Moody kept moving him out of the way. “What are you _doing_? You’re hurting him!”

The white ferret was whimpering and shivering, flailing its tail helplessly. Harry had joined her in trying to grab Draco’s ferret form but to no avail.

Sarah spun around and pointed her wand at Professor Moody to the gasps of the surrounding students.

“Change him back!” she demanded. “Change him back _now!_ He wasn’t hurting anyone!”

“I don’t like people who attack when their opponent’s back’s are turned,” growled Moody.

“THAT WAS CRABBE NOT DRACO!” Sarah shouted.

“Professor Moody!” said a shocked voice.

Professor McGonagall was coming down the marble staircase with her arms full of books.

“Professor! Please, help him! Draco wasn’t doing anything wrong, it was Crabbe! Please, he’s hurt,” cried Sarah at the stunned teacher.

“ _Are those students_?” shrieked Professor McGonagall, the books spilling out of her arms.

“Yep,” said Moody. “Went to hex another student when their back was turned.”

“No!” cried Professor McGonagall, running down the stairs and pulling out her wand; a moment later, with a loud snapping noise, Draco and Crabbe had reappeared, lying in a heap on the floor, their robes strewn haphazardly around them.

Draco groaned in pain as Sarah and Harry dropped to their knees beside him.

“Are you okay?” Harry asked worriedly, running his hands over Draco to check for injuries.

Draco just whimpered and coughed. A trickle of blood appeared at the side of his mouth and Sarah’s heart skipped a beat.

“He needs the hospital wing!” she heard Harry call out.

“Okay, Draco, you know how I’ve been reading those medical texts?” she didn’t wait for a reply. “Well, let’s see if this works.”

She waved her wand in an intricate pattern and held her breath as the air around Draco began to shimmer before solidifying.

“What did you do?” Harry asked. Behind him, Professor McGonagall was shouting at Moody and dispersing the crowd.

“This should help keep any broken bones from moving and causing more damage,” Sarah replied, gently stroking Draco’s forehead and the blond wheezed gently.

“Deaumont, Potter, move away please so I can levitate him,” Professor McGonagall had joined their little huddle. Sarah saw Professor Moody dragging Crabbe away by the arm, limping toward the dungeons.

They jumped back to give Professor McGonagall room to work. With a look of immense disapproval, she waved her wand and Draco’s prone form lifted into the air.

“Come,” Professor McGonagall said briskly before marching off down the corridor.

Sarah and Harry scrambled after her as the others went into the Great Hall for dinner.

Madam Pomfrey emerged from her office and her eyes tightened around the edges when she saw Draco floating in front of their trio.

“Oh dear, what happened, Minerva?” Madam Pomfrey asked, immediately pulling out potions and other things as Professor McGonagall lay Draco gently on a bed.

He whimpered slightly and Harry rushed to his side, running his fingers lightly through the thin blond strands stuck to Draco’s forehead.

“Professor Moody turned him into a ferret and made him hit the floor repeatedly after being flung into the air,” Sarah explained harshly to the nurse as she began diagnostic spells over Draco.

“He did _what_?” Madam Pomfrey said, aghast.

“Believe me, Poppy, Albus will definitely be hearing about this,” Professor McGonagall said sourly.

“I put a stabilising charm on him because I think he’s broken some bones,” Sarah said, drawing closer to watch the nurse work.

Both Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall looked surprised but slightly impressed.

“That’s very complicated magic,” Madam Pomfrey said, “how did you learn it?”

“I learnt it over the summer to help Remus,” Sarah answered. Harry shot her a surprised look but turned quickly back to Draco.

“You did a very good job,” approved Madam Pomfrey. “His ribs are broken and one has slightly punctured his left lung. His right wrist was also broken. How hard was he being handled?” Madam Pomfrey’s face was horror-stricken as she began to mend Draco’s injuries.

“You may need to check on Crabbe later,” Sarah said reluctantly. “I don’t think he was quite as injured though; he walked away with Moody afterwards.”

“This is completely unacceptable,” Professor McGonagall fumed. “Human transfiguration is never to be used as a punishment.”

“He didn’t even do anything wrong,” cried Sarah. “Crabbe threw that hex. Draco was just behind him and rushed forward with his wand out – but Moody changed them both. And he didn’t listen when I told him Draco had been trying to help.”

Professor McGonagall’s nostrils flared and her lips thinned until they were white.

“If you’ll excuse me,” she said curtly, “I need to go have a word with the headmaster.”

Silence fell over the ward once she had left, only interrupted by the soft sounds of Madam Pomfrey flitting around Draco.

After a long while, he was finally sleeping peacefully, his injuries healed.

“Have you ever thought about going into Healing?” Madam Pomfrey asked Sarah suddenly as she cleaned up.

Sarah looked up in surprise. “I’ve always been interested,” she admitted. “But I was also considering something to do with Alchemy.”

“Well, Alchemy and Potions are very useful in Healing,” the mediwitch said. “Lots of research around potion development and diseases involved in those fields.”

Sarah thought through the idea quietly as Madam Pomfrey finished cleaning up.

“I think you’d be an extremely good Healer,” observed Madam Pomfrey. “You can keep your head in an emergency but you also have the magical capability. Your results are extremely high as well – that’s important in becoming a Healer.”

“Do you have any recommendations for what I should do if I do pursue that career?” Sarah asked. Harry had taken a seat beside Draco’s bed so Sarah followed Madam Pomfrey into her office so they didn’t disturb the sleeping boy.

“Well, you’d have to make sure you got excellent N.E.W.T.s,” started Madam Pomfrey. “Healing programs only accept the best. You could also try for an apprenticeship with St. Mungo’s when you get older, they sometimes accept seventh-year students.”

“That actually sounds really interesting,” said Sarah. “And I could still do my Alchemy research as well.”

“Yes, you could. It would be encouraged,” replied Madam Pomfrey.

The mediwitch suddenly looked at Sarah quite seriously, a contemplative expression on her face.

“If you were interested,” she began, “I would be willing to take you on as my assistant. Merlin knows I need all the help I can get with you lot, especially you and your friends.”

“Really?” Sarah said excitedly. “You’d let me shadow you?”

Madam Pomfrey nodded, smiling at the brunette. “And I would teach you along the way – it would be very practical and may mean outside reading at some points to ensure you understood the concept of something.”

Sarah smiled widely. “That would be brilliant! Thank you so much! When could I start?”

“Well, you could start immediately,” replied Madam Pomfrey. “I’ll talk to Professor Snape about your schedule and see if it could count as extra credit. For now, if you come in Monday, Wednesday and Friday at lunch we can start the basic tutelage.”

Sarah nodded eagerly and thanked the older witch, who simply smiled and said she’d see her in two days. She and Harry were then told to go down to dinner and that they could visit Draco afterwards.

“I can’t believe I get to shadow Madam Pomfrey,” Sarah said, grinning ear-to-ear as they walked down the corridors.

“You’ll be wonderful at it,” Harry said sincerely.

“It also means I’ll be able to patch you boys up when you inevitably get hurt,” she said, smirking.

Harry opened his mouth to argue but then closed it again, nodding in acquiescence. “Yeah, you’re right.”

They slid into seats at the Gryffindor table to find Hermione scoffing down food extremely fast.

“Er – Hermione…If you’re not careful, you might choke,” Ron said hesitantly after greeting them.

“Got loads to do,” Hermione said thickly.

“But it’s the first day – you haven’t even gotten homework!”

“It’s not school work,” she said as she cleared her plate and departed. No sooner had she gone than her seat was taken by Fred.

“I heard about Draco, how is he?” he asked Sarah, placing an arm around her shoulders.

“He’ll be fine,” Sarah said, stabbing at her potatoes. “I’m so pissed at Moody, though. I mean, who does that to a student?”

“I don’t know, babe,” Fred replied, pressing a kiss to her head. “But Draco’s a tough boy, he’ll be bouncing back in no time.”

“If that’s a reference to him repeatedly hitting the floor earlier, I will break up with you,” Sarah said, threatening Fred with her fork.

He put his hands up placatingly. “Sorry, sorry,” he said quickly. “But seriously, Moody’s lesson was really good. He knows what he’s talking about.”

“He’s seen things,” George said, sitting opposite Fred.

“We had him just before,” said Lee Jordan, the twins’ best friend. “Hey, little snake,” he added, holding out a hand to fist-bump Sarah.

“He _knows_ man,” continued Lee.

“Knows what?” said Ron, leaning forward.

“Knows what it’s like to be out there _doing_ it,” said George impressively.

“Doing what?” said Harry.

“Fighting the Dark Arts,” said Fred.

“He’s seen it all,” said George.

“’Mazing,” said Lee.

Ron dived into his bag for his schedule.

“We haven’t got him till Thursday!” he said in a disappointed voice.

“Good,” Sarah said fiercely, “means I’ll be less likely to kill him on the spot.”


	6. Chapter Six

Thursday’s Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson came too quickly for Sarah’s liking. Draco had been let out of the hospital wing the morning after the incident and had actively avoided Moody whenever he saw the Professor in the corridors. Harry and Sarah were still filled with righteous anger at the entire thing and weren’t looking forward to the lesson as much as the other Gryffindors and Slytherins.

Draco pulled Sarah to a table at the back of the class and Harry quickly followed them, waving away Ron and Hermione, who took a seat with Neville at the front of the room. Blaise, Pansy, Theo and Millicent, however, chose the tables flanking Sarah, Harry and Draco. The Slytherins that had direct connections to known or suspected Death Eaters were extremely hesitant about being in the same room as a renowned retired Auror.

Soon they heard Moody’s distinctive clunking footsteps coming down the corridor, and he entered the room, looking as strange and frightening as ever. Sarah glared at him as he took his spot at the front of the classroom.

“You can put those away,” he growled, “those books. You won’t need them.”

They returned their books to their bags, Ron looking excited.

Moody took out a register and called everybody’s names, slowly down slightly at Crabbe’s, Goyle’s, Sarah’s, Draco’s and Theo’s. His vivid blue eye trained them on and they stared defiantly back.

“Right then,” he said, when Blaise declared himself present. “I’ve had a letter from Professor Lupin about this class. Seems you’ve had a pretty thorough grounding in tackling Dark creatures.”

The class nodded and listened intently.

“But you’re behind – very behind – on dealing with curses,” said Moody. “So I’m here to bring you up to scratch on what wizards can do to each other. I’ve got one year to teach you how to deal with Dark – “

“What, aren’t you staying?” Ron blurted out.

Moody’s magical eye spun around to stare at Ron; Ron looked extremely apprehensive, but after a moment Moody smiled. The effect was horrifying as it made his scarred face more twisted and contorted than ever.

“You’ll be Arthur Weasley’s son, eh?” Moody said. “Your father got me out of a very tight corner a few days ago…I’m doing a special favour to Dumbledore…One year and then back to my quiet retirement.”

He gave a harsh laugh and then clapped his gnarled hands together.

“So – straight into it. Curses. They come in many strengths and forms. Now, according to the Ministry of Magic, I’m supposed to teach you countercurses and leave it at that. I’m not supposed to show you what illegal Dark curses look like until you’re in sixth year. You’re not supposed to be old enough to deal with it all then. But Professor Dumbledore’s got a higher opinion of your nerves, he reckons you can cope, and I say, the sooner you know what you’re up against, the better. How are you supposed to defend yourself against something you’ve never seen? You need to be alert and watchful. So…do any of you know which curses are most heavily punished by Wizarding law?”

Several hands rose tentatively into the air from the Gryffindors, including Ron’s and Hermione’s. Moody pointed at Ron.

“Er,” said Ron tentatively, “my dad told me about one…Is it called the Imperius Curse, or something?”

“Ah, yes,” said Moody appreciatively. “Your father _would_ know about that one. Gave the Ministry a lot of trouble at one time, the Imperious Curse – Dark wizards getting away scot-free.”

Moody got heavily to his mismatched feet, opened his desk drawer, and took out a large glass. Three black spiders were scuttling around inside it. Moody reached into the jar, caught one of the spiders, and held it in the palm of his hand so that they could all see it. He then pointed his wand at it and muttered, “ _Imperio!”_

Sarah’s stomach turned as the spider leapt from Moody’s hand on a fine thread of silk and began to swing backwards and forward as though on a trapeze. It stretched its leg out rigidly, then did a backflip, breaking the thread and landing on the desk, where it began to cartwheel in circles. Moody raised his wand and the spider rose onto two of its hind legs and went into what was unmistakeably a tap dance.

“Total control,” said Moody quietly as the spider balled itself up and began to roll over and over. “I could make it jump out of the window, drown itself, throw itself down one of your throats…”

Ron gave an involuntary shudder.

“Years back, there were a lot of witches and wizards being controlled by the Imperius Curse,” said Moody, his blue eye trained on Sarah’s group at the back, “Some job for the Ministry, trying to sort out who was being forced to act, and who was acting of their own free will…”

Moody sent the spider floating over to their table and placed it in front of Draco, where it stood, quivering.

“It was also commonly used by Dark wizards to torment others,” Moody continued, his face splitting into a malicious smile. “It was their idea of _fun_.”

He suddenly snapped the spider back toward him and Sarah saw Draco relax fractionally. Harry reached under the table and grasped his hand and Draco relaxed even further.

“The Imperius Curse can be fought, and I’ll be teaching you how, but it takes real strength of character, and no everyone’s got it. Better avoid being hit with it if you can. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!” he barked and everyone jumped.

Moody picked up the spider and threw it back into the jar.

“Anyone else know one? Another illegal curse?”

Hermione’s hand flew back into the air and so, to Sarah’s surprise, did Neville’s. She felt Draco tense beside her again and a wave of horror crashed over her. Neville’s parents had been tortured into insanity by Draco’s aunt, Bellatrix Lestrange, when Neville was a baby. Narcissa has told them about it a few years ago and warned them that Neville’s family may treat Draco, and by extension Sarah, cruelly in retaliation. Throughout the years, however, Neville had been nothing but kind to them both.

“Yes?” said Moody, his magical eye rolling right over to fix on Neville.

“There’s one – the Cruciatus Curse,” said Neville in a small but distinct voice.

Moody was looking very intently at Neville, this time with both eyes.

“Your name’s Longbottom?” he said, his magical eye swooping down to check the register again.

Neville nodded nervously, but Moody made no further inquiries. Turning back to the class at large, he reached into the jar for the next spider and placed it upon the desktop, where it remained motionless, apparently too scared to move.

“The Cruciatus Curse,” said Moody. “Needs to be a bit bigger for you to get the idea,” he said, pointing his wand at the spider, “ _Engorgio!”_

The spider swelled. It was now larger than a tarantula. Abandoning all pretence, Ron pushed his chair backwards, as far away from Moody’s desk as possible.

Moody raised his wand, pointed it at the spider, and muttered, “ _Crucio!”_

At once, the spider’s legs bent upon its body; it rolled over and began to twitch horribly, rocking from side to side. No sound came from it, but Sarah was sure that if it could have given voice, it would have been screaming. Moody did not remove his wand, and the spider started to shudder and jerk more violently –

“Stop it!” Draco cried.

Sarah looked at him but he was looking at Neville, not the spider. Neville’s hands were clenched upon the desk in front of him, his knuckles white, his eyes wide and horrified. Sarah felt sick.

Moody glanced up and raised his wand. The spider’s legs relaxed, but it continued to twitch.

“That’s surprising,” he muttered, walking slowly toward Draco and Sarah’s group. “A Malfoy calling out to stop suffering.”

Draco held Moody’s hate-filled gaze, his hands shaking slightly under the table.

“Whatever would your aunt say?” Moody said softly, but the room was so silent that the entire class could hear his words.

“Professor, that’s unnecessary,” Sarah said coldly.

Moody turned his mismatched eyes upon her.

“I know more than you ever will, Deaumont,” he said cruelly. “I just hope that you are all smarter than your parents.”

He glared at the Slytherins surrounding them before his eyes fell on Harry, right in the middle and staring angrily at the Professor.

“Why don’t you give us the next curse, Deaumont?” Moody said, his eyes still on Harry. “You most certainly know it.”

Sarah’s aquamarine eyes caught Harry’s green ones as he looked at her in slight confusion.

“You shouldn’t demonstrate that one,” she muttered to the Professor. “It’s not necessary.”

“Not necessary?” Moody finally turned away from Harry to fix his piercing gaze on her. “Why, I think it’s extremely necessary – and you should too, especially considering your friend here.”

Sarah stared daggers at the professor as he put the still-twitching spider down on the desk in front of her.

“Don’t you think that everyone should be prepared for the worst – should know what it looks like?” Moody continued, cocking his head slightly. “Why, I think you would even benefit from seeing the results. It may help you make sense of some things.”

Sarah’s harsh glare turned into confusion but she wasn’t given the opportunity to ask any questions, as Moody raised his wand, pointed it at the spider and roared, “ _Avada Kedavra!”_

There was a blinding flash of green light and a rushing sound, as though a cast, invisible something was soaring through the air – instantaneously the spider rolled over onto is back, unmarked, but unmistakably dead.

Moody swept the dead spider off the desk onto the floor.

“Not nice,” he said calmly. “Not pleasant. And there’s no countercurse. There’s no blocking it. Only one known person has ever survived it…”

His eyes went back to Harry, who flushed a dark red and avoided everyone’s gazes. Draco squeezed his hand tightly under the table and Moody’s blue eye darted down before resting again on Harry. Moody’s lip curled slightly. He suddenly limped away and went back to the front of the class.

Sarah knew she should have been listening to Professor Moody’s words but after what he had just done, all she could do was sit in shock. Draco was mechanically taking notes as if that’s all he knew how to do at this point. Harry was sitting on his other side looking dazed and horrified. Sarah knew he must be thinking about his parents – how they had no hope of stopping it, how they looked after, unmarked and unblemished, as if simply asleep but unseeing…

A horrible suspicion began to brew in Sarah’s chest and she suddenly found it difficult to draw a proper breath. Without looking at anybody she stood from her chair and rushed from the room, ignoring the calls of her name behind her. She ran until she found herself outside near the lake, trees surrounding her on all sides.

She sank to her knees in the soft earth and felt tears begin to stream down her face.

Her mother had had no visible clues as to what had caused her death. She looked and seemed completely fine – but she was dead. The Aurors had stopped looking into her death after the Healers had said that she was sick. But Sarah knew she hadn’t been. Something had always nagged her about her mother’s death: it was too sudden, too unnatural. Could this have been the cause of it? The Killing Curse?

Sarah struggled to control herself enough to sit against a large tree and not fall into the lake by accident. She wrapped her arms and cloak tighter around her as she stared unseeing into the water.

Had Evelyn Deaumont been murdered? And if so, why? By whom?

So many unanswerable questions spun through Sarah’s mind and she lost track of time. Distantly, she registered the sound of bells tolling but she couldn’t tell what time they were declaring. Gradually, the sky around her got darker and darker, and yet she still continued to sit there. A strange sort of numbness had settled in her chest, as if, all along, she had known that her mother’s death was not from natural causes. As if, after all this time, she knew that someone had taken her mother from her.

When the sun had dipped low into the horizon, Sarah realised that footsteps were growing closer and closer to where she was still sitting against the tree.

A body sat next to her and put an arm around her shoulders. She melted into the familiar warmth, turning her face away from the lake for the first time in hours to bury it into a soft jumper.

“Draco told me what happened,” Fred said softly, stroking a hand gently up and down her side. “You really worried us, Sarah. We couldn’t find you anywhere. When Blaise told Draco at dinner that you hadn’t shown up for your next class, he freaked out. Came straight up to Gryffindor and marched inside; scared half of us to death.” Sarah’s lips twitched slightly at the image of Draco bursting through the portrait hole in a panicked blur of blond hair. “We searched most of the castle in a panic before Hermione had the bright idea to use the Marauder’s Map. Honestly, we’d all be lost without you or her – a few hours with you gone and we boys already fell into chaos.”

Fred leant his head against hers gently.

“Do you want to talk to me about it?” he asked softly. “If not, that’s okay. I brought some hot chocolate.”

Sarah leant back slightly and blinked at Fred in dull surprise.

“You brought _hot chocolate_?” she said, her voice slightly less emotionless than she had feared it would be.

Fred grinned at her. “Of course,” he said brightly. “Hot chocolate can solve any problem – well, that is if you’re not allergic to it. Then it would probably just make your day worse.”

Sarah couldn’t help it. A disbelieving laugh escaped her and a warmth began to blossom in her chest. She shook her head at Fred and pulled him close, her laugh slowly turning into renewed sobs. He just held her tightly and stroked her hair and back, letting her cry all over his robes.

Once she finally felt like she had cried all the tears her body could produce, she pulled back and accepted the cup of hot chocolate that Fred procured from a pocket.

Sarah leant back against Fred’s chest as she quietly confessed her thoughts and conclusions about her mother’s death. Fred didn’t say anything but his grip around her tightened slightly.

“I just wasn’t expecting it,” she whispered, taking a long sip of the fragrant beverage. “It’s not like I haven’t thought about the possibility of it. But seeing the reality of it thrust upon me in _class_? Not cool.”

“I’m starting to rethink my opinion of Moody,” Fred said sourly, “after the way he treated you and Draco.”

Sarah finally let herself smile wider.

“We should turn _him_ into a ferret so he knows what it feels like,” Sarah said with an enthusiasm that made Fred smile.

“It wouldn’t be much of a ferret,” pondered Fred, “It'd basically be some arms and maybe a leg – not very practical.”

“All the more reason to do it,” Sarah smirked. “We could it near the owlery, that’ll teach him.”

“And there’s the Sarah we all know and love,” Fred said with a wide smile. “You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t contemplate murder at least _once_ in a day.”

Sarah laughed. It was an overloud, bright sound but it helped her feel better. Fred joined in and soon they were both struggling to breathe from the force of their laughter.

“We should head back,” Sarah said eventually, sighing and leaning comfortably against Fred.

“Draco’s in Gryffindor Tower,” Fred said, turning to face her and placing his hands gently on either side of her face. “He’ll be okay for a little while longer.”

Sarah smiled as Fred pulled her in closer, letting herself forgot about thoughts for just a moment.

***

By the time they got back to Gryffindor Tower, the moon had risen and the stars were twinkling gleefully down at them. Fred held Sarah’s hand the entire trip back, not even letting go when they crawled through the portrait hole.

Sarah smiled at the scene that greeted them; everyone had obviously fallen asleep waiting for them. Draco and Harry were curled together on the couch, Draco’s blond head resting comfortably on Harry’s chest. Hermione had taken the other half of their couch and her legs were tangled with the boys’. Ron and George were both sprawled on the floor in front of the fire and Crookshanks had curled himself up on George’s back, rising and lowering slightly in time with his even breaths.

“Should we wake them up?” Sarah whispered to Fred.

His brown eyes gleamed mischievously as he walked into the middle of the group, clapped his hands together loudly and exclaimed, “Oi, wake up fuckers!”

Ron and George woke up with startled shouts and George flailed in confusion for a few moments as Crookshanks ran over his reclined body. Hermione let out a shriek and jumped on the couch, kicking Draco and Harry awake and causing Draco to topple off the couch.

Sarah and Fred bent over in fits of laughter as everyone sorted themselves out, blinking in tired confusion until they realised who exactly had awoken them.

“Sarah!” Draco said, quickly scrambling off the ground and pulling her into a hug. “I’m glad you’re all right. I was going to come to you but I thought you could use Fred in that moment.”

“Thank you, Draco,” Sarah said gratefully, kissing his cheek. “You guys didn’t have to wait up for us.”

“Um, yes we did,” Harry said as though stating the obvious. “We didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“Yeah, but Ron’s recount of the Canon’s most recent game knocked us all out,” George said with a yawn, “Remind me to _never_ ask about it again.”

Sarah laughed as everyone got to their feet.

“Thanks guys,” she said, smiling.

“Anytime,” Ron shrugged. They all began to trek up to their rooms.

Sarah grabbed Harry before he could leave and asked, “How are you?”

He shrugged one shoulder. “It was pretty expected but at least now I know. It means I can try to avoid that particular curse in the future.”

“I know what you mean,” Sarah said with a smile. “Talk to me if you need to?”

“Of course,” Harry said. “Now come on, I think Draco may try to follow you to Hermione’s room if you don’t stay with us.”

Sarah kissed Fred goodnight before following Harry and Draco into Harry’s dorm. Another mattress had appeared beside Harry’s bed, complete with pillows and blankets, and Sarah fell gratefully into it.


	7. Chapter Seven

The next two months passed quickly as the workload began to increase. In Charms and Transfigurations, both Professors Flitwick and McGonagall repeatedly stressed about the importance of understanding the magical theory before applying it to spell work. This meant that the fourth years were getting essay after essay about the intricate magical foundations of the new spells they were learning. Potions had increased in difficulty as well, as they had now moved on from the general basics and were beginning to focus on more complicated potions. Herbology had started to introduce an array of dangerous magical plants that Sarah had about as much luck with as the regular plants. Professor Sprout had given up on letting her work alone and always made sure she was paired with someone who could ensure that the plant remained alive by the end of the lesson. Ancient Runes had also increased its workload. Now, they were expected to understand the runes well enough to not need their translation sheets with them – most of their work was now primarily written in runes.

In Defense Against the Dark Arts, Professor Moody had begun to put them under the Imperius Curse so that they could try to shake it off. To this point, only Harry had been successful at completely shaking the curse off, and Moody had put him under it again and again until it was second nature to break out of it.

Hagrid had introduced Blast-Ended Skrewts at the start of term and had happily told them that their assignment would be to raise them and see what they could do. Sarah was sure that they were an illegal mix between two other creatures but she cared too much about Hagrid to raise the issue, so every other day, she and Draco would trudge reluctantly down to Hagrid’s cabin to observe the Skrewts. More often then not, they returned to the castle covered in burns or stings, luckily avoiding the blood-sucking parts of some of the creatures.

On Monday, Wednesday and Friday, Sarah spent her lunches in the hospital wing with Madam Pomfrey, learning the basics of Healing and occasionally helping tend to the simplest cases. More than once, Harry or one of the twins slouched in sheepishly with injuries varying from a twisted ankle from falling down the stairs (Harry), burns (Harry), and suspicious boils or unstoppable nosebleeds (Fred and George). Sarah would always just roll her eyes and direct them to the beds she and Madam Pomfrey had unofficially designated as their own before tending to them.

Before they knew it, the end of October had arrived and the delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang would be arriving the next day. The castle had gone through an intense clean, from the banisters to the rafters, with all the portraits scrubbed within an inch of their paint and the suits of armour polished until you could see your own reflection.

When they went to breakfast on the thirtieth of October, they found that the Great Hall had been decorated overnight. Enormous silk banners hung from the walls, each of them representing a Hogwarts House: red with a gold lion for Gryffindor, blue with a bronze eagle for Ravenclaw, yellow with a black badger for Hufflepuff, and green with a silver serpent for Slytherin. Behind the teachers’ table, the largest banner of all bore the Hogwarts coat of arms: lion, eagle, badger, and snake united around a large letter H.

Sarah and Draco saw Fred and George sitting apart from everyone else at the Gryffindor table and conversing in low voices. Sarah drew Draco over there and they bumped into Ron, Harry and Hermione on the way.

“It’s a bummer, all right,” George was saying gloomily to Fred. “But if he won’t talk to us in person, we’ll have to send him the letter after all. Or we’ll stuff it into his hand. He can’t avoid us forever.”

“Who’s avoiding you?” said Ron, sitting down opposite George.

“Wish you would,” said Fred, looking irritated at the interruption. His expression softened when he greeted Sarah and he held her hand as he turned back to George to continue their conversation.

“What’s a bummer?” Ron asked George, cutting them off again.

“Having a nosy git like you for a brother,” said George.

“You two got any ideas on the Triwizard Tournament, yet?” Harry asked. “Thought any more about trying to enter?”

“I asked McGonagall how the champions are chosen but she wasn’t telling,” said George bitterly. “She just told me to shut up and get on with Transfiguring my raccoon.”

“Wonder what the tasks are going to be?” said Ron thoughtfully. “You know, I bet we could do them, harry. We’ve done dangerous stuff before…”

“No thanks, mate,” Harry said quickly. “I’ll pass this time.”

“And you haven’t done that stuff in front of a panel of judges,” said Fred. “McGonagall says that champions get awarded points according to how well they’ve done the tasks.”

“It’ll be interesting to meet people from the other schools,” Draco said, piling his plate high. “I just hope that Karkaroff doesn’t try to talk to me.” At the other’s confused looks, he elaborated, “Headmaster of Durmstrang.”

“At least we can all go to Hogsmeade this year,” Harry said happily. “Now that Sirius and Remus signed Sarah and my forms.”

Somehow Ron set Hermione off on a rant about her new project, S.P.E.W (Society for the Protection of Elvish Welfare), and now the pair were bickering loudly across the table. The others left them to it, instead chatting calmly about the incoming arrivals.

When the bell rang early that afternoon, interrupting Potions, Sarah and the Slytherins rushed to drop their bags off in their dormitories before piling outside. The Heads of Houses were ordering their students into neat lines on the steps leading the entrance hall. Sarah could hear Professor McGonagall barked orders at her students to straighten themselves up. Professor Snape merely sneered at all the Slytherins, who looked immaculately dressed, as always.

“This is taking forever,” Blaise drawled from beside Sarah. “I’m cold and hungry, can’t they hurry up?”

No sooner than he had he spoken, Professor Dumbledore called out that the Beauxbatons delegation was arriving.

They all craned their necks to see a gigantic, powder-blue, horse-drawn carriage, the size of a large house, soaring toward them, pulled through the air by a dozen winged horses, all palominos, and each the size of an elephant.

The front rows of students drew backward as the carriage hurtled even lower, coming in to land at tremendous speed – then, with an almighty crash, the horses’ hooves, larger than dinner plates, hit the ground. A second later, the carriage landed too, bouncing upon its vast wheels, while the golden horses tossed their enormous heads and rolled large, fiery red eyes.

Sarah just had time to see that the door of the carriage bore a coat of arms (two crossed, golden wands, each emitting three stars) before it opened.

A boy in pale blue robes jumped down from the carriage, bent forward, fumbled for a moment with something on the carriage floor, and unfolded a set of golden steps. He sprang back respectfully. Then Sarah saw a shining, high-heeled black show emerging from the inside of the carriage – a shoe the size of a child’s sled – followed, almost immediately, by the largest woman she had ever seen in her life. The size of the carriage, and of the horses, was immediately explained. A few people gasped.

Sarah only knew one other person as large as this woman, and that was Hagrid. As she stepped into the light flooding from the entrance hall, she was revealed to have a handsome, olive-skinned face; large, black, liquid-looking eyes; and a rather beaky nose. Her hair was drawn back in a shining knob at the base of her neck. She was dressed head to two in black satin, and many magnificent opals gleamed at her throat and on her thick fingers.

Dumbledore started to clap; the students, following his lead, broke into applause too, many of them standing on tiptoe to better look at the woman.

Her face relaxed into a gracious smile and she walked forward toward Dumbledore, extending a glittering hand. Dumbledore, though tall himself, had barely to bend to kiss it.

“My dear Madame Maxime,” he said. “Welcome to Hogwarts.”

“Dumbly-dorr,” said Madame Maxime in a deep voice. “I ‘ope I find you well?”

“In excellent form, I thank you,” said Dumbledore.

“My pupils,” said Madame Maxime, waving one of her enormous hands carelessly behind her.

Sarah looked toward the dozen boys and girls who had emerged from the carriage and were now standing behind Madame Maxime. Many of them had scarves covering their faces and heads as they shivered in their thin uniforms.

“’As Karkaroff arrived yet?” Madame Maxime asked.

“He should be here any moment,” said Dumbledore. “Would you like to wait here and greet him or would you prefer to step inside and warm up a trifle?”

“Warm up, I think,” said Madam Maxime. “Come,” she added imperiously to her students. The Hogwarts students parted to allow her and her students to pass up the stone steps.

They stood, shivering slightly now, waiting for the Durmstrang party to arrive.

“The lake!” Lee Jordan suddenly shouted, pointing down at it. “Look at the lake!”

Form their position at the top of the lawns overlooking the grounds, they had a clear view of the smooth black surface of the water – except that the surface was suddenly not smooth at all. Some disturbance was taking place deep in the centre; great bubbles were forming on the surface, waves were no washing over the muddy banks – and then, out in the very middle of the lake, a whirlpool appeared, as if a giant plug had been pulled out of the lake’s floor…

What seemed to be a long, black pole began to rise slowly out of the heart of the whirlpool...

“It’s a mast!” Millicent said to their group.

Slowly, magnificently, a ship rose out of the water, gleaming in the moonlight. It had a strangely skeletal look about it, as though it were a resurrected wreck, and the dim, misty lights shimmering at its portholes looked like ghostly eyes. Finally, with a great sloshing noise, the ship emerged entirely, bobbing on the turbulent water, and began to glide toward the bank. A few moments later, they head the splash of an anchor being thrown down in the shallows and the thud of a plank being lowered onto the bank.

When the group of people reached the light of from the entrance hall, Sarah saw a tall, thin man with short white hair and a goatee step forward to greet Dumbledore.

“Dumbledore!” he called heartily. “How are you, my dear fellow, how are you?”

“Blooming, thank you, Professor Karkaroff,” Dumbledore replied.

“Dear old Hogwarts,” Karkaroff said, looking up at the castle and smiling: his teeth were rather yellow and his eyes were cold and shrewd. “How good it is to be here, how good…Viktor, come along, into the warmth…you don’t mind, Dumbledore? Viktor has a slight head cold…”

Karkaroff beckoned forward one of his students. Sarah didn’t need the punch on the arm Draco gave her, or the hiss in her ear, to recognise him.

“Sarah – _it’s Krum!”_

***

The school finally made its way back into the Great Hall, settling into their House tables. As Sarah and Draco passed the Durmstrang students to take their seats at the Slytherin table, a deep voice called out their names.

“Sarah! Draco!”

They turned, the other Slytherins around them stopping dead, as Viktor Krum stepped forward and shook their hands.

“I vas hoping to catch you,” he said, his accent thick. “I thought I saw you earlier – may ve sit vith you?”

“Of course,” Sarah said after it became obvious that Draco had been struck silent by the fact the Viktor Krum remembered his name. She grabbed Draco’s arm and began to lead the Durmstrang students to the free spaces that had appeared along the Slytherin table.

“I didn’t realise you were still in school,” Draco mentioned to Krum, having finally gotten his voice back. “Doesn’t your practice make that difficult?”

“Very,” nodded Krum, “but Karkaroff helps me make it vork.”

“That’s good,” Sarah said. She turned to introduce her other friends. “Krum, this Blaise Zabini, Pansy Parkinson, Millicent Bulstrode and Theodore Nott – they’re all in fourth year like Draco and me.”

Krum shook each of their hands and said, “Please, call me Viktor.”

“Did you get much of a holiday, Viktor, after the World Cup?” Theo asked, surprisingly calm for someone who was meeting his favourite Quidditch player.

“Not really,” Viktor replied. “I had to travel back to Bulgaria and there vas another match just before term that I had to train for. I vas also visiting family.”

He turned slightly as two people sat down beside him.

“This is Mila Lehmann,” he indicated to the curvy girl sitting beside him, “and this is Aleksander Bachkov,” he turned to the tall, lean boy on the other side of Mila. “They are my close friends.”

“He means that ve are the only people he can stand at school,” Mila said smoothly. Her accent was less obvious than Viktor’s and Sarah thought that she might have been German instead of Bulgarian. Mila had bright blue eyes and startling blond hair with dyed pink tips.

Aleksander was her complete opposite. He had night-black hair and warm hazel eyes. Sarah could see many of the older girls and boys peering around at them to get a close look at the startingly attractive boy.

“Viktor is not one for socialising,” Aleksander added with a sly smirk. “He lacks those certain skills – too many times being hit by a Bludger, I say.”

To their complete surprise, Aleksander had no accent. At their shocked glances he titled a crooked smile their direction.

“I grew up in England, even though my parents grew up in Bulgaria,” he said, winking. “We moved back to the continent when I was old enough to start school. That’s where I met this unfortunate lump.”

Sarah laughed at Viktor’s affronted expression.

“That is because everyone else treats me like royalty,” Viktor muttered. “It is very annoying.”

“Ah, the suffering of fame,” Sarah said, shooting a smirk at Draco. “Our best friend Harry feels the same – he’s not one for attention.”

“Harry Potter?” Viktor asked, “Vas he at the Volrd Cup?”

“Yah he was,” Sarah pointed behind Viktor and the three Durmstrang students turned in their seat, “He’s that scrawny fellow over there with the black hair and glasses.”

Harry realised he was being watched and looked up. Sarah waved with a bright smile and he waved back in confusion. Ron shot his ginger head up and began gaping, smacking Harry on the arm repeatedly under Harry pushed him away.

Viktor, Mila and Aleksander turned back around and sighed.

“Sorry about dear Ronald,” Sarah said apologetically. “He’s never quite grasped the concept of _subtle_. He’ll be much better once Hermione reels him in.”

“That is okay, I vas expecting as much,” Viktor said.

“You guys can hang out with us this year, if you’d like?” Draco offered. “It might help keep some of the more enthusiastic students away. We’d understand if you wouldn’t, though – we are a few years younger.”

“That does not matter,” Aleksander said, smiling at their group. “Thanks for the offer, we’d probably be lost in a crowed immediately.”

“Vat’s this about _ve?_ ” Viktor said, raising a dark eyebrow. “They would not look twice at you.”

“I don’t know about that,” Pansy said from Draco’s other side. “You might find yourself running away from one or two lovestruck students, with a smile like that.”

“Luckily, none of us are interested,” Millicent voiced. “Sarah’s dating Fred, Draco’s practically dating Harry, Pansy and I are gay, Theo’s straight. I guess the only problem you’ll have to look out for is Blaise and his excitable libido.”

“ _Millie_!” Blaise said in offense, clutching his heart. “I’m not some wild beast waiting to ravage the nearest piece of meat.”

“Aren’t you?” Millie said in fake confusion. “You had me convinced.”

Their group burst into laughter, startling the people around them.

It was cut short, however, by Professor Dumbledore standing to his feet.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and – most particularly – guests,” said Dumbledore, beaming around at the foreign students. “I have the great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable. The tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast. I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home.”

The plates in front of them filled with food as usual. The house-elves in the kitchen seemed to have pulled out all the stops; there was a greater variety of dishes in front of them.

“Musaka! Yum!” Aleksander said, eagerly reaching forward and grabbing a large serving of the dish.

“Mother would be so proud,” Draco said, eyeing the various plates in front of them. “They even have Gratin Dauphinois!”

Sarah rolled her eyes and helped herself to the closest dishes, occasionally tasting some that the Durmstrang students suggested and making them, in turn, try a few French and English dishes.

“How do you know these?” Mila asked after she had tried a serving of Escargot and Bouillabaisse. “Hogwarts vould know offer these usually, right?”

“Draco’s mother’s family came from France so she and my mother would constantly take us there to help us learn about the culture. My father also tried sending me to Beauxbatons instead of Hogwarts, thankfully that failed,” Sarah said in answer.

“Viktor said you speak Bulgarian,” Aleksander told them. “We are made to learn German, Bulgarian and Russian at Durmstrang.”

“Father is friends with your headmaster,” Draco said slightly sourly. “He wanted me to go to Durmstrang.”

“Hogwarts is too British,” Pansy said. “Even though we’re in Scotland, we don’t learn anything about the native culture. The least we could do was offer another language.”

“Do you say your spells in Latin or your native languages?” Sarah asked, suddenly quite curious.

“Latin,” replied Mila. “Although, some spells are in German – Germany had more success creating spells throughout the years and Durmstrang has a lot of German students.”

“I’d love to go to Germany,” Sarah said wistfully. “I think I’ll travel once I graduate.”

“Not if you’re going to do your Healing apprenticeship,” Draco noted. “You’d have more luck convincing mother to take us during the summer.”

Sarah scrunched her nose up. “Well, guess I’ll travel after I get my qualifications.”

“You are going into Healing?” Aleksander asked excitedly. “I’m currently doing an apprenticeship with the hospital connected to Durmstrang.”

Sarah eagerly jumped into a conversation about Healing with Aleksander as the others continued to chat around them.

Once the golden plates had been wiped clean, Dumbledore stood up again. A pleasant sort of tension seemed to fill the Hall now.

“The moment has come,” said Dumbledore, smiling around at the sea of upturned faces. “The Triwizard Tournament is about to start. I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket – “

“The what?” Blaise muttered.

Draco shrugged.

“ – just to clarify the procedure that we will be following this year. But first, let me introduce, for those who do not know them, Mr Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation” – there was a smattering of polite applause – “and Mr Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports.”

There was a much louder round of applause for Bagman.

“I did not like him very much at the Volrd Cup,” Viktor murmured. “I vas sure I saw him paying people vith Leprechaun gold.”

Sarah’s eyes cut to Fred and George at the Gryffindor table. Both of them wore matching glares as they stared up at Bagman. Sarah now had an idea of why they had been getting gradually more annoyed recently.

“The casket, then, if you please, Mr Filch,” Dumbledore said. Sarah realised she had missed half of his words.

Filch, who had been lurking unnoticed in a far corner of the Hall, now approached Dumbledore carrying a great wooden chest encrusted with jewels. It looked extremely old. A murmur of excited interest rose from the watching students.

“As you know, three champions compete in the tournament,” Dumbledore went on calmly, “they will be marked on how well they perform each of the tasks and the champion with the highest total at the end will win the Triwizard Cup. The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector: the Goblet of Fire.”

Dumbledore now took out his wand and tapped three times upon the top of the casket. The lib creaked slowly open. Dumbledore reached inside it and pulled out a large, roughly hewn wooden cup. It could have been entirely unremarkable had it not been full to the brim with dancing blue-white flames.

Dumbledore closed the casket and placed the goblet carefully on top of it, where it would be clearly visible to everyone in the Hall.

“Anybody wishing to submit themselves as champions must write their name and school clearly upon a slip of parchment and drop it into the goblet,” said Dumbledore. “Aspiring champions have twenty-four hours in which to put their names forward. Tomorrow night, Halloween, the goblet will return the names of the three it has judged most worthy to represent their schools. The goblet will be placed in the entrance hall tonight, where it will be freely accessible to all those wishing to compete.

To ensure that no underage age student yields to temptation,” continued Dumbledore, “I will be drawing an Age Line around the Goblet of Fire once it has been placed in the entrance hall. Nobody under the age of seventeen will be able to cross the line.”

Sarah met Fred’s eyes from across the Hall. They were glinting wildly and Sarah already knew that he and George had something planned.

“Those two idiots are going to end up in the hospital wing,” she said to Draco as Dumbledore dismissed them.

“Who?” Viktor asked curiously

“My boyfriend and his twin,” Sarah replied. “Oh, they’re coming over now, hang on.”

Fred, George, Ron, Hermione, and Harry were all hurrying toward where the Slytherins and Durmstrang trio were standing.

“An Aging Potion should do it – I know it!” Fred said once he was in earshot. He wrapped an arm around Sarah’s shoulders and kissed the side of her head.

“It won’t work,” she said, rolling her eyes at her boyfriend. “Dumbledore will expect that.”

“Nonsense!,” George said, “You’ll see.”

“Will you two come to Gryffindor with us?” Harry asked, going to stand next to Draco.

“Sure,” agreed Draco. “Also, this is Viktor, Mila and Aleksander. They’ll probably be spending some time with us this year.”

“That’ll be nice, I’m Harry,” Harry said, offering his hand to the three foreign students.

Ron was standing behind him, eyes wide. Hermione elbowed him before offering her own hand to shake. He blinked and shook his head, holding his hand out after a moment.

They followed the crowd to the doors and found themselves reaching them at the exact same moment as the majority of the Durmstrang students, Karkaroff at the lead.

“Ah, there you are, Viktor, how are you feeling?” Karkaroff said gruffly.

Viktor, Mila and Aleksander walked worked to greet their headmaster and Sarah and the others stopped to let the school group through.

“Thank you,” said Karkaroff carelessly, barely glancing their way.

And then Karkaroff froze. He turned his head back to Harry and stared at him as though he couldn’t believe his eyes. Behind their headmaster, the other students of Durmstrang came to a halt too, staring curiously at Harry. Sarah saw Viktor, Mila and Aleksander roll their eyes and whisper to each other.

Karkaroff’s eyes then moved to Draco’s bright hair and face and seemed to recognise him. “You must be Draco Malfoy,” he said. “Your father has told me about you.”

“Is that so?” Draco said coolly. “I can’t say the same about you.” Sarah knew he was lying, Lucius Malfoy made it a habit to mention Karkaroff and Durmstrang at least twice a year during summer.

Karkaroff’s eyes narrowed as he noticed how close Harry and Draco were standing. Again, his dark eyes flicked up to Harry’s forehead, focusing on his scar.

“Yeah, that’s Harry Potter,” said a growling voice from behind them.

Professor Karkaroff spun around. Mad-Eye Moody was standing there, leaning heavily on his staff, his magical eye glaring unblinkingly at the Durmstrang headmaster.

The colour drained from Karkaroff’s face as Sarah watched. A terrible look of mingled fury and fear come over him.

“You!” he said, staring at Moody as though unsure he was really seeing him.

“Me,” said Moody grimly. “And unless you’ve got anything to say to Potter, Karkaroff, you might want to move. You’re blocking the doorway.”

It was true; half the students in the Hall were now waiting behind them, looking over one another’s shoulders to see what was causing the holdup.

Without another word, Professor Karkaroff swept his students away from him. Moody watched him until he was out of sight, his magical eye fixed upon his back, a look of intense dislike upon his mutilated face.

Sarah and the others looked around in confusion before Harry shrugged and began to lead them up to the Gryffindor common room.

***

As the next day was Saturday, most students would normally have breakfasted late. The five of them, however, were not alone in rising much earlier than they usually did on weekends. Sarah’s eyes nearly fell out of her head when she saw Draco follow Harry and Ron down the boy’s staircase that morning.

“Who are you and what have you done with Draco?” she teased loudly.

Draco rolled his eyes. “Merlin, Sarah, I _am_ capable of getting up before midday on weekends.”

“Are you really?” she said in fake astonishment. “I could have sworn that you went into temporary hibernation, you were so impossible to wake up.”

“Fuck off,” he laughed, pushing her away as she jumped at him.

When they went down to the entrance hall, they saw about twenty people milling around it, some of them eating toast, all examining the Goblet of Fire. It had been placed in the centre of the hall on the stool that normally bore the Sorting Hat. A thin golden line had been traced on the floor, forming a circle ten feet around it in every direction.

“Anyone put their name in yet?” Ron asked a third-year girl eagerly.

“All the Durmstrang lot,” she replied. “But I haven’t seen anyone from Hogwarts yet.”

“Bet some of them put it in last night after we’d all gone to bed,” said Harry. “I would have if it had been me…wouldn’t have wanted anyone watching. What if the goblet just gobbed you right back out again?”

Someone laughed behind them. Turning, Sarah saw Fred, George and Lee Jordan hurrying down the staircase, all three of them looking extremely pleased.

“And here’s my favourite idiot,” Sarah said fondly, kissing Fred chastely.

“We just took it,” he said in a triumphant whisper to them.

“What?” said Ron.

“The Aging Potion, dung brains,” said Fred.

“One drop each,” said George, rubbing his hands together with glee. “We only need to be a few months older.”

“We’re going to split the thousand Galleons between the three of us if one of us wins,” said Lee, grinning broadly.

“Aw, you’re all so hopeful,” Sarah said, pushing Fred away in the back. “Go now so Madam Pomfrey doesn’t have to deal with you that long.”

“Where’s your faith in us, babe?” Fred pouted as Lee and George pulled him toward the line.

“Oh, I have plenty of faith in you,” she replied smirking. She crossed her arms over her chest as their group walked to the front to have a good view, “I just have more in Dumbledore’s spells.”

“Ready?” George said to the other two, quivering with excitement. “C’mon, then – I’ll go first – “

Sarah watched in amusement as George pulled a slip of parchment out of his pocket bearing his name, and strode to the edge of the line. He stood there, rocking back and forth on his toes like a diver preparing for a fifty-foot drop. Then, with the eyes of every person in the entrance hall upon him, he took a great breath and stepped over the line.

For a split second Sarah thought it had worked – Fred certainly thought so, for he let out a yell of triumph and leapt after George – but next moment, there was as loud sizzling sound and both twins were hurled out of the golden circle as though they had been thrown by an invisible hand. They landed painfully, ten feet away on the cold stone floor, and to add insult to the injury, there was a loud popping noise and both of them sprouted identical long white beards.

Sarah nearly collapsed with laughter, tears of mirth falling down her cheeks. Harry held her upright, shaking with his own laughter. Even Fred and George joined in, once they had gotten to their feet and taken a good look at each other’s beards.

“I did warn you,” said a deep, amused voice, and everyone turned to see Professor Dumbledore coming out of the Great Hall. He surveyed Fred and George, his eyes twinkling, “I suggest you both go up to Madam Pomfrey. She is already tending to Miss Fawcett of Ravenclaw, and Mr Summers of Hufflepuff, both of whom decided to age themselves up a little too. Though I must say, neither of their beards is anything as fine as yours.”

Sarah broke into renewed giggles and Fred and George approached them, smiling broadly.

“What do you think, babe? Should I grow a beard?” Fred asked, laughing as Sarah ducked under his arm to avoid kisses being peppered all over her face.

“No, no, no,” she giggled, hiding behind Draco. “Go get that horrid thing removed.”

Fred and George set off for the hospital wing, accompanied by Lee, who was howling with laughter, and the others went in for breakfast.

The decorations in the Great Hall had changed this morning. As it was Halloween, a cloud of live bats was fluttering around the enchanted ceiling, while hundreds of carved pumpkins leered from every corner.

“I never liked the bats,” Draco said, eyeing the creatures with trepidation as they took seats at the Gryffindor table.

“Listen!” said Hermione suddenly.

People were cheering out in the entrance hall. They all swivelled around in their seats to see Angelina Johnson coming into the Hall, grinning in an embarrassed sort of way. A tall, black girl who played Chaser on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, Angelina came over to them, sat down, and said, “Well, I’ve done it! Just put my name in!”

“You’re kidding!” said Ron, looking impressed.

“Are you seventeen, then?” asked Harry.

“Obviously,” Draco said, rolling his eyes.

“I had my birthday last week,” said Angelina.

“Well, I’m glad someone from Gryffindor’s entering,” said Hermione. “I really hope you get it, Angelina!”

“Thanks, Hermione,” said Angelina, smiling at her.

“Yeah, better you than Pretty-Boy Diggory or Warrington,” said Seamus, causing several Hufflepuffs passing their table to scowl heavily at him.

“Ergh, we can’t have a Slytherin champion!” Ron said.

Draco and Sarah coughed pointedly and Ron flushed slightly.

“Er – sorry,” he said sheepishly, “sometimes forget you guys are snakes.”

“What are we going to do today, then?” Ron asked as they finished breakfast and left the Hall.

“Sorry to bump you guys but I need to borrow Harry and Draco,” Sarah said, staring at Hermione meaningfully.

The brunette’s eyes widened in recognition and she quickly nodded, grabbing Ron’s arm and dragging him toward the marble staircase. “Of course, we have some homework to finish anyway.”

“What are you – ?” Ron started but broke off with a yelp as Hermione elbowed him.

“Have fun!” Hermione called as they hurried away. “See you later!”

Harry was watching them in bemusement. “That was weird.”

Sarah snorted and shook her head. “C’mon, follow me.”

They spent the rest of the day repeating the events of last year, where Sarah and Harry had picnicked on the lawns and flew around in the Quidditch Pitch. Draco and Sarah ensured that the conversation veered away from parents and family.

At one point, Hedwig appeared with a note from Sirius and Remus for Harry. It contained some photos of them and Harry’s parents. Sarah even saw her mother in a few of them.

By half past five it was growing dark, and the trio decided it was time to get back up to the castle for the Halloween feast – and, more important, the announcement of the school champions.

Harry sat between Sarah and Draco at the Slytherin table and they were quickly joined by Viktor, Mila and Aleksander.

“Good luck, guys,” Sarah said sincerely to the Durmstrang students.

“Thanks, Sarah,” Mila smiled. “I heard about your boyfriend. How’s his beard?”

Sarah peered over her shoulder and saw Fred and George laughing with Angelina at the Gryffindor table, completely beard-free.

“Thankfully gone,” Sarah replied. “I’m glad we don’t have to participate, but I’m quite upset about Quidditch.”

This prompted a passionate discussion about the Inter-House Quidditch and whether they would be allowed to play unofficially throughout the year.

The Halloween feast seemed to take much longer than usual. Perhaps because it was their second feast in two days, but Sarah didn’t seem to fancy the extravagantly prepared food as much as she normally would. Draco spent more of it whispering lowly to Harry and holding his hand unseen under the table. Everyone in the Hall was fidgeting with impatient looks on their face, some craning their necks to see if Dumbledore had finished.

At long last, the golden plates returned to their original spotless state; there was a sharp upswing in the level of noise within the Hall, which died away almost instantly as Dumbledore got to his feet. One either side of him, Professor Karkaroff and Madame Maxime looked as tense and expectant as anyone. Ludo Bagman was beaming and winking at various students. Mr Crouch, however, looked quite uninterested, almost bored.

“Well, the goblet is almost ready to make its decision,” said Dumbledore. “I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the champions’ names are called, I would ask them please to come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber” – he indicated the door behind the staff table – “where they will be receiving their first instructions.”

He took out his wand and gave a great sweeping wave with it; at once, all the candles except those inside the carved pumpkins were extinguished, plunging them into a state of semidarkness. The Goblet of Fire now shone more brightly than anything in the whole Hall, the sparkling bright, bluey-whiteness of the flames almost painful on the eyes. Everyone watched, waiting…A few people kept checking their watches…

The flames inside the goblet turned suddenly red again. Sparks began to fly from it. Next moment, a tongue of flame shot into the air, a charred piece of parchment fluttered out of it – the whole room gasped.

Dumbledore caught the piece of parchment and held it at arm’s length, so that he could read it by the light of the flames, which had turned back to blue-white.

“The champion of Durmstrang,” he read, in a strong, clear voice, “will be Viktor Krum.”

The Hall broke into applause. Sarah, Draco, Mila and Aleksander clapped loudly for Viktor as he got to his feet and made his way to down the staff table and disappeared into the other room.

The flames turned red again and a second later, another piece of parchment shot out of it, propelled by the flames.

“The champion for Beauxbatons,” said Dumbledore, “is Fleur Delacour!”

“That’s the girl that Ron drooled over last night,” Harry revealed, clapping loudly with the rest of them.

A girl, who strongly resembled a veela, got gracefully to her feet, shook back her sheet of silvery blond hair, and swept up between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables.

When Fleur Delacour too had vanished into the side chamber, silence fell again, but this time it was a silence so stiff with excitement you could almost taste it.

And the Goblet of Fire turned red once more; sparks showered out of it; the tongue of flame shot high into the air, and from its tip Dumbledore pulled the third piece of parchment.

“The Hogwarts champion,” he called, “is Cedric Diggory!”

Every single Hufflepuff had jumped to his or her feet, screaming and stamping, as Cedric made his way past them, grinning broadly, and headed off toward the chamber behind the teachers’ table. Indeed, the applause for Cedric went on so long that it was some time before Dumbledore could make himself heard again.

“Excellent!” Dumbledore called happily as the last of the applause died down. “Well, we now have our three champions. I am sure I can count upon all of you, including the remaining students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to give your champions every ounce of support you can muster. By cheering your champion on, you will contribute in a very real – “

But Dumbledore suddenly stopped speaking, and it was apparent to everybody what had distracted him.

The fire in the goblet had just turned red again. Sparks were flying out of it. A long flame shot suddenly into the air, and borne upon it was another piece of parchment.

Automatically, it seemed, Dumbledore reached out a long hand and seized the parchment. He held it out and stared at the name written upon it. There was a long pause, during which Dumbledore stared at the slip on his hands, and everyone in the room stared as Dumbledore. And then Dumbledore cleared his throat and read out –

“ _Harry Potter.”_


	8. Chapter Eight

Sarah sat in horrified silence as every head in the Great Hall turned to look at Harry. He was sitting completely still, face pale and gaping slightly as he looked at each of them in horror.

Up at the top table, Professor McGonagall had got to her feet and swept past Ludo Bagman and Professor Karkaroff to whisper urgently to Professor Dumbledore, who bent his ear toward her, frowning slightly.

“I didn’t put my name in,” Harry said blankly. “You know I didn’t.”

Draco and Sarah just stared back blankly.

At the top table, Professor Dumbledore had straightened, nodding to Professor McGonagall.

“Harry Potter!” he called again. “Harry! Up here, if you please!”

“No!” Sarah said without thinking. Heads turned to stare at her as Dumbledore looked at her in shock.

“Harry,” Dumbledore said again.

Harry got unsteadily to his feet, shaking violently as he stared at Draco and Sarah helplessly.

“No,” Sarah repeated, jumping to her feet and grabbing Harry’s arm. “He didn’t put his name in – that’s ridiculous.”

“Miss Deaumont,” Snape starting in a warning voice.

“He didn’t put his name in!” she repeated. “It’s a mistake!”

“Sarah, Harry, into the next room, please,” Dumbledore said quietly.

Harry began walking in a daze, tugging her arm to make Sarah follow. He looked like he was about to be sick.

With one more glance at Draco, she followed, glaring at anyone who sent nasty looks in Harry’s direction.

Viktor Krum, Cedric Diggory, and Fleur Delacour were grouped around the fire. They all looked up when Harry and Sarah entered but Sarah ignored them, instead pushing Harry down into a chair and standing in front of him with her hands on his shoulders.

“We’ll figure it out, okay?” she said quickly. “They can’t make you compete, they just can’t.”

“Sarah, vat is going on? Vhy is Harry here?” Viktor asked, coming to stand beside them with a worried expression on his face.

“Harry’s name just came out of the Goblet of Fire,” Sarah said in a shaky voice. She was just beginning to really panic.

“ _What_?” 

There was a sound of scurrying feet behind them, and Ludo Bagman entered the room. He hurried toward Harry but stopped short at Sarah’s fierce glare.

“Extraordinary, extraordinary!” Bagman muttered.

“Evidently zair ‘ah been a mistake,” Fleur said. “’E cannot compete. ‘E is too young.”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to _say!”_ Sarah cried.

The door opened again and a large group of people came in: Professor Dumbledore, followed closely by Mr Crouch, Professor Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape.

“Madame Maxime!” said Fleur at once, striding over to her headmistress. “Zey are saying zat zis little boy is to compete also!”

Sarah bristled slightly. _Little boy_? Sure, Harry wasn’t the tallest boy at the moment but he wasn’t _little_.

Madame Maxime had drawn herself to her full, and considerable height. The top of her handsome head brushed the candle filled chandelier, and her gigantic black-satin bosom swelled.

“What is ze meaning of zis, Dumbly-dorr?” she said imperiously.

“I’d rather like to know that myself, Dumbledore,” said Professor Karkaroff. He was wearing a steely smile, and his blue eyes were like chips of ice. “ _Two_ Hogwarts champions? I don’t remember anyone telling me the host school is allowed two champions – or have I not read the rules carefully enough?”

“ _C’est impossible_ ,” said Madame Maxime, whose enormous hand with its many superb opals was resting on Fleur’s shoulder. “’Owgarts cannot ‘ave two champions. It is most unjust!”

“We were under the impression that your Age Line would keep out younger contestants, Dumbledore,” said Karkaroff, his steely smile still in place.

“Did you put your name in the Goblet of Fire, Harry?” Dumbledore asked calmly.

“No,” Harry said firmly. He had stood up from the chair and was now standing next to Sarah, hand gripping her arm tightly.

Karkaroff scoffed but Dumbledore just observed Harry carefully.

“Did you ask an older student to put it into the Goblet of Fire for you?” said Dumbledore.

“ _No_ ,” said Harry vehemently.

“Ah, but of course ‘e is lying!” cried Madame Maxime. Snape was now shaking his head, his lip curling.

“He’s not!” Sarah said. “We were with him all night! And he’s repeatedly said he _doesn’t_ want to compete.”

“’E could ‘ave snuck off in ze night,” Madame Maxime argued.

“ _Oh mon Dieu_!” Sarah hissed. “If you don’t believe me, ask Draco or Ron or Seamus or Neville or Dean – do I need to go on?”

Madame Maxime seemed surprised for a moment before she bristled in anger.

“Really what nonsense!” Professor McGonagall said angrily. “Harry could not have passed the Age Line and Professor Dumbledore believes that he did not persuade an old student to do it for him, I’m sure that should be good enough for everybody else!”

She shot a very angry look at Professor Snape.

“Mr Crouch…Mr Bagman,” said Karkaroff, his voice unctuous once more, “you are our – er – objective judges. Surely you will agree this is most irregular?”

Mr Crouch, half-hidden in shadow, spoke in his usual curt voice.

“We must follow the rules, and the rules state clearly that those people whose names come out of the Goblet of Fire are bound to compete in the tournament.”

“Unacceptable!” exclaimed Karkaroff.

“I demand a resubmission!” cried Madame Maxime.

“ _Connerie_!” swore Sarah.

“Language, Miss Deaumont,” Snape said quietly.

She just glared back at him.

“I don’t _want_ to compete,” Harry said suddenly. “Are you sure there’s no way – “

“The Goblet of Fire is a binding contract,” Mr Crouch said sternly. “You are now a champion – you must compete.”

“Convenient, don’t you think?” growled a voice from near the door.

Moody had just entered the room. He limped toward the fire and with every right step he took, there was a loud _clunk_.

“Convenient?” said Karkaroff. “I’m afraid I don’t understand you, Moody.”

“Don’t you?” said Moody quietly. “Someone hoodwinked a very powerful magical object, knowing that Potter would have to compete if his name came out of it. If I had to guess, I’d say someone did it to set Potter up.”

“Why does eet matter if someone set ‘im up?” burst out Fleur. “’E ‘as a chance to compete, ‘asn’t ‘e? A thousand Galleons in prize money! Ze honour for our schools – zis is a chance many could die for!”

“Maybe someone’s hoping Potter _is_ going to die for it,” said Moody with the merest trace of a growl.

An extremely tense silence followed these words.

“Even more reason to not let him compete,” Sarah said.

“He doesn’t have a choice, Sarah,” Dumbledore said apologetically. “How this situation arose, we do not know. It seems to me that we have no choice but to accept it.”

“But Dumbly-dorr – “

“My dear Madame Maxime, if you have an alternative, I would be delighted to hear it.”

Dumbledore waited by Madame Maxime did not speak, she merely glared. She wasn’t the only one either. Snape looked furious; Karkaroff livid; Viktor and Cedric, however, looked rather confused.

Mr Crouch stepped forward into the silence and told the champions that the first task would take place on the twenty-fourth of November and that they would only be armed with their wands. They would also be exempt from their end-of-year tests.

Harry listen to it all with a blank expression on his face, his grip on Sarah’s hand never lessening.

Everyone began leaving once Bagman and Crouch had finished speaking. Viktor gave Sarah and Harry one last sympathetic glance before following Karkaroff out of the room.

“Harry, Sarah, Cedric, I suggest you go to bed,” said Dumbledore, smiling at all of them. “I am sure that Gryffindor and Hufflepuff are waiting to celebrate with you, and it would be a shame to deprive them of this excellent excuse to make a great deal of mess and noise.”

The Great Hall was deserted now; the candles had burned low, giving the jagged smiles of the pumpkins an eerie, flickering quality.

Just before they exited the Great Hall, Harry turned to Cedric.

“I want you to know that I really didn’t put my name in that goblet,” he said evenly. “I was excited that you were the champion. I don’t want to compete against you. You’re the rightful Hogwarts champion – you should know that.”

Cedric looked stunned for a moment but he eventually found his voice.

“Er – thanks, Harry,” he said awkwardly. “I’m sorry you got roped into this somehow.”

“You and me both,” Harry muttered.

“Cedric,” Sarah said suddenly. “Tell the rest of Hufflepuff, would you? Tell them that will support you because you’re the Hogwarts champion. He’s not going to be competing to win, just to survive.”

“I’ll do what I can,” Cedric said, nodding at them both before exiting the Great Hall.

Harry slumped and Sarah caught him.

“Come on,” she said softly. “Draco will be waiting up in Gryffindor.”

Harry nodded and the pair moved out into the Great Hall.

Sarah barely had time to register the sound of running footsteps and a flash of blond hair before Draco slammed into Harry.

“Are you okay? I believe you, of course. They’re not making you compete, are they? It’s absolutely ridiculous!” Draco said anxiously, holding Harry tightly to his chest.

Harry seemed to crumble even further now that he was in Draco’s arms and a soft intake of breath indicated that he was trying to fight back tears.

“They’re making him compete,” Sarah said softly, looking into Draco’s stricken silver eyes.

“That’s – that’s – “ Draco stuttered, struggling to find proper words to describe the situation.

“I know.”

Draco took Harry’s face in his own and rubbed his thumbs gently over the other boy’s cheekbones.

“Harry, you’ll be okay,” Draco promised. “Sarah and I will be with you every step of the way. Same with Ron and Hermione. We’re not letting you do this alone.”

Harry nodded and leant into Draco’s touch. Sarah turned around to give them some privacy. After a little while of Draco whispering comfortingly to Harry, they straightened.

“We should head up,” Harry said, his face dry and his voice stronger. He kept a tight grip on Draco’s hand and the other boy had no complaints.

The trio made their way to Gryffindor Tower and was assaulted by a blast of noise so loud that it nearly knocked them backward. Next thing they knew, Harry was being hauled inside by about a dozen pairs of hands, while he still desperately tried to stay connected to Draco.

Sarah and Draco ran through after him and found that the entire Gryffindor House were screaming, applauding and whistling.

“You should have told us you entered!” bellowed Fred; he looked half annoyed, half deeply impressed.

“How did you do it without getting a beard? Brilliant!” roared George.

“Fred, stop, he didn’t enter,” Sarah muttered to him as Harry was passed between people, hopelessly trying to get away.

Fred looked at her in surprise and took in her subdued pained face.

“What do you mean?” he said. “Are they going to make him compete?”

“Moody thinks that someone put his name in the goblet and that he’s – well, that he’s in danger,” Sarah whispered, hugging her arms tightly around herself. “He has no choice – Mr Crouch said that it was a binding contract.”

Fred sobered up and wrapped his arms around her. “He’ll be fine, Sarah. He’s a strong kid and he’s got all of us to support him.”

Sarah nodded absently, watching Draco fight through the crowd to stand at Harry’s side. Harry visibly relaxed but was still looking around the common room hurriedly.

“Where’s Ron and Hermione?” Sarah asked Fred as she realised who Harry was looking for.

"They went up to their rooms,” Fred said. He hesitated slightly before saying, “Ron’s not too happy. He thinks Harry entered for himself.”

“ _What?_ ”

“To be fair that’s what we all thought…”

“But – but Harry is his _best friend_!” Sarah said, astounded. “Surely he would have seen Harry’s face earlier and understood he hadn’t entered?”

“I don’t know, Sarah,” Fred said uncomfortably. “You know how Ron is sometimes…”

“I need to talk to Hermione,” she announced. She kissed Fred quickly before forcing her way through the crowd.

“Oh thank Merlin,” Harry muttered when she appeared beside him. “Have you seen Ron and Hermione?”

“They’re in their dorms, I’m going up to Hermione now,” Sarah said. “Draco stay with him.”

Draco must have seen the look in her eyes because he nodded firmly and gripped Harry’s hand tighter.

“Alright, everyone – _MOVE_!” Sarah bellowed. “We’re tired so back _off_! Enjoy the party but we’re going to bed!”

The crowd startled backward and the three of them quickly took their exit, with Sarah rushing up the girl’s stairs while Draco and Harry disappeared up the boy’s.

Sarah found Hermione sitting on her bed, reading a book and worrying her lip.

“Sarah!” she said in relief as soon as Sarah closed the door behind her. “How’s Harry? I couldn’t stay down there, no one was listening to reason. There’s no way he entered!”

“Thank Merlin you think that,” Sarah said, falling onto the bed beside her. “How’s Ron? Fred said he wasn’t too happy.”

Hermione hesitated and worried her lip even more. “Oh, Sarah, it’s horrible,” she finally breathed. “He’s so jealous and won’t listen to anyone. He doesn’t believe me or Harry.”

Sarah straightened. “The boys just went up to Harry’s dorm. I need to go check on them.”

“I’ll come with you,” said Hermione decisively. “I think you may need to take Harry to Slytherin tonight.”

Sarah and Hermione rushed down the staircase and, ignoring the people trying to call them back into the party, hurried up boy’s staircase and into Harry and Ron’s dormitory.

They found Harry and Ron staring at each other; the former annoyed and hurt, and the latter disbelieving and angry. They looked up as the girls entered.

“I guess you believe his nonsense, then?” Ron said, his eyebrows raised. “That he didn’t enter his name in the goblet.”

“Of course we do, Ron. He’s our friend,” Sarah said fiercely.

Ron scoffed. “If he was our friend, he’d tell us the truth of how he really did it instead of lying and saying that someone else did it to try and kill him.”

Hermione gasped. Draco looked murderous. Sarah was fuming with anger.

“How can you say that, Ron?” Hermione said. “Why would Harry lie about something like that?”

“Dunno,” Ron said, shrugging as if it weren’t a big deal. “But he didn’t get in trouble, did he? Dumbledore’s letting him enter. A thousand Galleons prize money, eh? And you don’t have to do end of year tests either…”

“I didn’t put my name in that goblet!” Harry said, starting to get angry.

“Yeah, okay,” said Ron, in a sceptical tone. “Only, you said this morning you’d have done it last night, and no one would’ve seen you…I’m not stupid, you know.”

“You’re doing a really good impression of it,” Harry snapped.

“Yeah?” said Ron, his fake grin dropping off his face. “You want to get to bed, Harry. I expect you’ll need to be up and early tomorrow for a photo-call or something.”

“Fuck you, Ronald,” Sarah hissed. “Harry, grab your things – you’re sleeping in Slytherin tonight.”

“Oh yeah, just go sleep with the snakes,” Ron said, rolling his eyes. “You probably helped him figure it out – probably want some of the winnings for yourself.”

Sarah’s eyes narrowed dangerously and she took a step forward but Hermione held her back.

“Ron, _stop it_!” the bushy-haired girl snapped. “You’re being unreasonable.”

“Unreasonable?” Ron said angrily. “No, Hermione, _you’re_ being unreasonable – blindly believing everything they say.”

Draco and Harry had finished packing a small bag of Harry’s things.

“Just piss off, Ron,” Harry snapped.

“Have fun with the snakes,’ Ron called as they left the room. “Merlin knows you’ll fit right in with those treacherous bastards.”

Sarah almost turned back around to go and punch the redhead but Hermione kept a firm grip on her arm.

The party was still in full swing as they fought their way through the crowd, Hermione stopping at the portrait hole.

“I’ll try to talk to him,” she said to Harry, hugging him tightly.

“Don’t bother,” Harry muttered. “He obviously won’t listen. I’ll see you tomorrow, Hermione.”

Hermione smiled sadly at him and Draco steered him out of the portrait hole.

Turning to Sarah, she said, “Look out for him. He’s going to need it more than ever.”

If only they knew just how bad everything would soon become.


	9. Chapter Nine

The first task was only a week away. The past month had been horrible for Harry: people spat horrid words at him as he passed in the halls, purposely tripped him, threw hexes and jinxes at him, and in general just treated him like shit. Ron still wasn’t talking to any of them. He was constantly seen sitting with Seamus and Dean and occasionally sending Harry and the others dirty looks when he wasn’t outright ignoring them. The Slytherin group was more understanding. They had believed Sarah and Draco when they told them Harry hadn’t entered his name, so now, Harry usually spent more time in the Slytherin common room and dorms than Gryffindor’s. All the Hufflepuffs and some Ravenclaws had turned against him, believing that he had stolen Cedric’s place as the real Hogwarts champion. Despite Cedric’s best attempts, the Hufflepuff’s were still extremely cold towards Harry and his friends.

Remus and Sirius had sent multiple letters to Sarah, Harry and Draco, all stating that he needed to keep a clear head and stick close to the people he had around him. They sent suggestions of spells he should learn, just in case, and Sarah, Draco, Harry and Hermione usually found themselves in empty classrooms practising until curfew.

To make matters worse, Crabbe had somehow enlisted the help of some nasty older Slytherins to help make him badges that flashed POTTER STINKS whenever pressed. The majority of the school wore one, pressing it gleefully whenever Harry or Sarah or Draco walked past.

More than once, Sarah nearly got detention or lost House points for defending Harry against the horrid students. Harry tried to tell her it wasn’t worth it but she would just shut him up with a look.

One of the only good things to come out of this was that Viktor, Mila and Aleksander believed Harry and had decided to join their group semi-permanently.

“I do not understand all their resentment,” Aleksander said one lunchtime while they reclined near the lake. They had avoided the Great Hall after an article by Rita Skeeter had been published, in which she only talked about Harry and barely mentioned the other champions. “They are all being petty – they should be supporting _both_ their champions.”

“Hufflepuff never gets any recognition or chance to prove themselves,” Hermione explained concisely. “They feel as if Harry has robbed them of this chance.”

“I just wish that they’d understand that if I could back out, I would,” Harry said miserably.

“Ignore it Harry,” Viktor said, turning his attention away from where it had rested on Hermione for a while. “People vill either love you or hate you. It is just something you have to endure.”

“Oh yeah, you’d get a lot of this, wouldn’t you, Viktor?” Draco said, pausing in running his fingers through Harry’s dark curls to address the Bulgarian. Harry made a noise of dissent and Draco rolled his eyes, but continued to stroke Harry’s head.

They were interrupted by Hagrid, who wanted to talk to Harry about something. As the dark-haired boy moved out of earshot, Sarah asked Viktor, “How are finding it? Preparing for the first task?”

Viktor sighed deeply. “It is not easy,” he admitted. “I still do not know vat ve vill be facing. Mila and Alek have been helping me.”

“We’ve been helping Harry as well,” Sarah confessed. “I think it’s ridiculous to think that the champions should do it purely alone.”

Harry came back toward them and sat down with a slightly confused expression on his face.

“What did Hagrid want?” Hermione asked, looking up from her book for a moment.

“He wants me to meet him at his cabin tonight,” Harry said, his brow furrowed. “Has something to show me apparently.”

“Don’t get caught,” Sarah advised.

***

Harry rushed into the Great Hall the next morning in a flurry of hastily done-up robes and panic. He veered immediately to where Sarah and Draco were eating breakfast and pulled them from their seats, pausing only to wave at Hermione that she should follow.

“ _Dragons!”_ Draco repeated faintly after Harry had finished telling them what Hagrid had shown him.

“Four of them,” Harry confirmed. “I have no idea what to do.”

“Well, first you’re going to calm down,” Sarah said, pushing Harry into a seat in the deserted classroom. “You’re panicking.”

She paced around the room for a while, thoughts whirling through her mind.

“Well, there must be a spell you can use to incapacitate a dragon,” she pondered. “But you’d still have to get past it. They must want you to grab something.”

“All those spells would need a lot of power though,” Draco countered. “Usually three or four dragon trainers cast at the same time on one dragon.”

“So, what if we use an external factor?” Sarah suggested, thinking fast. “We need something that will play to Harry’s strengths but will also be in the rules.”

“What strengths though?” Harry asked. “I mean, I’m a decent flyer, and I’m good at Defense, I guess...”

“That’s it!” Hermione said suddenly, her brown eyes shining. “ _Flying_!”

“That’s brilliant, Hermione,” said Sarah.

“But I can’t use my broom,” Harry frowned. “I’m only allowed my wand.”

“You can summon your broom, idiot,” Draco said fondly. “Flitwick’s been teaching us the Charm, remember?”

“But I’m horrid at them,” groaned Harry. “There’s no way I’d be able to summon my broom all the way from Gryffindor Tower to the Forest.”

“Well, we’re just going to make you practice until you can,” Sarah said decisively.

***

Harry began to really panic the morning of the first task. The four of them had practised until Harry could summon anything they told him too, they even made him summon things from across the castle. Sarah was confident that he’d be able to summon his broom from his room.

Harry had confessed two days ago that he had told Cedric about the dragons – Karkaroff and Madame Maxime had seen them and Cedric was the only one left in the dark.

But now the first task loomed before them. Harry had been a shaking mess at breakfast and not even a walk around the lake with Draco had calmed him down.

Sarah had begged to Mrs Pomfrey to let her assist the witch in the Champions tent in case there were any injuries. This meant that she, Draco and Hermione were all surrounded around Harry before the task began.

“I’ll be here the entire time,” Sarah assured. “And Draco and Hermione will be in the stands. There are teachers everywhere and you know what you have to do. We believe in you, Harry.”

He nodded shakily and hugged each of them, a flash interrupting halfway through his hug with Hermione. Draco shouted himself hoarse at Rita Skeeter invading the champions tent without permission and threatened to sue her if she published anything derogatory about Harry.

Rita had just smirked and left when Dumbledore arrived. Draco and Hermione were told to find their seats and Sarah had to follow Madame Pomfrey into the next room as the champions got their instructions.

“Do you think I’ll be able to stay with him while he waits?” Sarah asked Madame Pomfrey anxiously.

“I don’t know, Sarah,” the nurse replied, looking stricken. “You’ll be needed in here.”

Sarah nodded and jumped as a canon blasted, signally the start of the first task.

Time seemed to blur together from then on. She helped Madame Pomfrey tend to the burns that Cedric had gotten, the cut on Viktor’s face and the scraps and burns Fleur collected. She finally convinced Madame Pomfrey to let her watch Harry from the sidelines and the nurse joined her once the other champions were resting.

Sarah watched, pride filling her as Harry perfectly summoned his Firebolt to him and began to fly against the dragon. Panic filled her as the dragon’s tail struck his arm at one point but he just kept flying, taunting the dragon to raise herself up and away from the pile of eggs on the ground. Once she was standing and snapping at Harry, he shot down, fast as a bullet, and scooped up a golden egg as the stadium erupted in cheers and shouts.

Harry flew directly toward Sarah and stumbled off his broom as she dragged him into the medical tent. She ripped open his shirt sleeve as Madam Pomfrey hurried over with burn salve, potions and her wand and began to mend the nasty cut on Harry’s bicep.

“You did it!” Sarah cried, kissing the side of his head and wiping sweat and dirt off his face. “You were brilliant, Harry!”

Harry tiredly smiled at her and leant against her as Madam Pomfrey finished cleaning his wound and wrapping it.

At that moment, Draco, Hermione, and to Sarah’s surprise, Ron, burst into the tent. Ron hovered in the back as Draco and Hermione rushed forward, the blond throwing himself into Harry’s arms.

Madam Pomfrey quickly drew the privacy curtains as other people began to enter the room, winking subtly at Sarah as she did so.

“I was so worried,” Draco sobbed, gripping Harry tightly. “But you did amazingly. I’ve never seen you fly like that before.”

“Maybe because I’ve never had a fifty-foot dragon trying to eat me before,” Harry said sarcastically, a fond smile on his face.

Draco drew back and just looked at Harry with awed disbelief, then to Sarah’s delight, he drew Harry in and kissed him firmly on the mouth.

Hermione and Sarah squealed in joy and Harry gripped Draco tighter and kissed the blond just as passionately.

Ron was blinking in surprise behind them all and awkwardly cleared his throat once Harry and Draco had separated.

Draco’s jubilant expression immediately darkened and Sarah knew that he didn’t agree with whatever Ron was about to do.

“Harry,” he said, very seriously, “whoever put your name in that goblet – I – I reckon they’re trying to do you in!”

Sarah frowned at the redhead, not at all impressed.

“Caught on, have you?” said Harry coldly. “Took you long enough.”

Ron opened his mouth uncertainly but Harry cut him off.

“It’s okay,” he said. “Forget it.”

Sarah and Draco stared at Harry in shock.

“No,” said Ron, “I shouldn’t’ve – “

“ _Forget it_ ,” Harry said.

Ron grinned nervously at him, and Harry grinned back.

“I’m not going to make an issue about this now because you just survived a dragon, Harry,” Sarah said, making sure to keep her voice calm. “But I _swear to Merlin_ , we are talking about this later.”

She glowered at Ron, who took a step back.

“Don’t think you’re suddenly forgiven or off the hook,” she said angrily. “I’m just too happy that Harry is okay to shout at you right now.”

Ron nodded hurriedly and Sarah turned her back on him. Draco had taken a seat beside Harry on the bed and was holding his hand tightly. The pair were smiling shyly at each other.

An announcement from the judges made them all exit the tent, the stadium was now empty of the dragon but the stands were still erupting with cheers – cheers that increased as Harry appeared.

“It seems everyone is now starting to forgive you,” Sarah said sourly.

Harry’s scores were released and Sarah was elated to see that he tied in first place with Viktor. Charlie Weasley made his way over to them and clapped Harry firmly on the shoulder.

“Great flying, Harry!” the redhead said excitedly. “Listen – I told mum I’d tell her what happened – but that was unbelievable! Hopefully, I'llsee you this summer! Oh, and Bagman said you need to stay back, he wants a word in the champion’s tent.”

Sarah, Draco, Hermione and Ron waited in tense silence while Harry met with the other champions.

“Sarah – “ Ron started.

“Don’t,” she said flatly. “You were a dick, to all of us but mainly Harry. He may forgive you easily but you better earn it back for the rest of us. _One_ more screwup and you’re nothing to me, got it?”

Ron looked shocked but he nodded.

“Good,” Sarah said. “Now, we’re going to go back to Gryffindor Tower and celebrate with Harry and the others. And then, you’re going to let me punch you in the face for being such a horrible person this past month.”

Ron agreed and Draco chimed in that he wanted a punch as well, a sentiment that was followed by an annoyed Hermione.

Harry emerged from the tent and beamed at them all.

As they began walking back to the castle, a witch leapt out of the clump of trees. It was Rita Skeeter. She was wearing acid-green robes today; the Quick-Quotes Quill in her hand blended perfectly against them.

Her eyes flicked down briefly to Harry and Draco’s clasped hands and Sarah knew that tomorrow’s edition of the Prophet would be outing them to the world. Sarah only hoped that Narcissa would be able to restrain Lucius long enough to stop him from storming the castle.

“Congratulations, Harry!” Skeeter said, beaming at Harry. “I wonder if you could give me a quick word? How you felt facing that dragon? How you feel _now,_ about the fairness of the scoring?”

“Yeah, you can have a word,” said Harry savagely. “ _Good-bye_.”

And he set off back to the castle, with Sarah, Draco, Ron and Hermione chortling after him.

***

When they entered the Gryffindor common room, it exploded with cheers and yells again. There were mountains of cakes and flagons of pumpkin juice and butterbeer on every surface; Lee Jordan had let off some Filibuster’s Fireworks so that the air was thick with stars and sparks; and Dean Thomas, who was very good at drawing, had put up some impressive new banners, most of which depicted Harry zooming around the Horntail’s head on his Firebolt, though a couple showed Cedric with his head on fire.

Sarah helped herself to some food as the others spread out and began to mingle. She smiled as she realised that Harry wasn’t letting Draco leave his side, a fact that Sarah knew Draco would be having no problem with.

Fred found her half an hour into the party and celebrated with her by snogging enthusiastically. They were rudely interrupted by George pulling them apart and declaring that he obviously had to play chaperone whenever they were together.

They both rolled their eyes but Sarah settled back against Fred’s chest with no argument. Harry, Draco, Ron and Hermione joined their group shortly after and Draco smirked at Sarah’s flushed face. She just stuck her tongue out at him; she had seen him and Harry disappear for a few minutes earlier.

“Blimey, this is heavy,” said Lee Jordan, picking up the golden egg, which Harry had left on a table, and weighing it in his hands. “Open it, harry, go on! Let’s just see what’s inside it!”

“He’s supposed to work out the clue on his own,” Hermione said swiftly.

“Oh shush, Hermione, just let him do it,” Fred said from behind Sarah.

“Yeah, go on, Harry, open it!” several people echoed.

Lee passed Harry the egg, and Harry dug his fingernails into the groove that ran all the way around it and prised it open.

It was hollow and completely empty – but the moment Harry opened it, the most horrible noise, a loud and screechy wailing, filled the room.

“Shut it!” Fred bellowed, his hands over his ears.

“What was that?” said Seamus Finnigan, staring at the egg as Harry slammed it shut again. “Sounded like a banshee…Maybe you’ve got to get past one of those next, Harry!”

“It was someone being tortured!” said Neville, who had gone very white and spilt sausage rolls all over the floor. “You’re going to have to fight the Cruciatus Curse!”

“Don’t be a prat, Neville, that’s illegal,” said George. “I thought it sounded a bit like Percy singing…maybe you’ve got to attack him while he’s in the shower, Harry.”

“You’re all ridiculous,” Draco said in a knowing tone.

“Yeah, Malfoy? You know what it is?” George said immediately. “Surely, you won’t keep your boyfriend in the dark.”

“I’ll tell _him_ , not all of you,” Draco drawled, not arguing with the term ‘boyfriend’ to Harry’s obvious delight. The raven-haired boy beamed at Draco and pulled him in for a kiss, causing wolf whistles to break out throughout the crowd.

“We’re cuter,” Fred whispered into Sarah’s ear.

“Of course, we are,” she agreed wholeheartedly, “They could never beat us in the cuteness factor.”

Draco, who had heard her words, gave her the finger as he continued to snog Harry.

The crowd of onlookers eventually broke away to get food and drinks. George appeared before them with a plate of tarts.

“Anyone want a jam tart?” he asked.

Hermione looked doubtfully at the plate he was offering her. George grinned.

“It’s all right,” he said. “I haven’t done anything to them. It’s the custard creams you’ve got to watch – “

Neville, who had just bitten into a custard cream, choked and spat it out. George laughed.

“Just my little joke, Neville…”

Hermione took a jam tart. Then she said, “Did you get all this from the kitchens, George?”

“Yep,” George said, grinning at her. He put on a high-pitched squeak and imitated a house-elf. “Anything we can get you, sir, anything at all!’ They’re dead helpful…get me a roast ox if I said I was peckish.”

“How do you get in there?” Hermione said in an innocently casual sort of voice.

“Why…?” George said suspiciously.

“No reason,” Hermione said quickly.

“Hermione, just drop it,” Ron said. “The elves like what they’re doing. You can’t force them to follow your S.P.E.W values.”

“Don’t you go upsetting them and telling them they’ve got to take clothes and salaries!” said Fred warningly. “You’ll put them off their cooking!”

Just then, Neville caused a slight diversion by turning into a large canary.

“Oh – sorry, Neville!” George shouted over all the laughter. “I forgot – it _was_ the custard creams we hexed – “

Within a minute, however, Neville had moulted, and once his feathers had fallen off, he reappeared looking entirely normal. He even joined in laughing.

“Canary Creams!” Fred shouted to the excitable crowd. “George and I invented them – seven sickles each, a bargain!”

“That’s brilliant,” Sarah breathed, smiling up at Fred.

“Why thank you,” he replied, smiling in return.

They were still smiling when George forcibly separated them again a few minutes later.


	10. Chapter Ten

Something unexpected caused a massive bubble of excitement to burst throughout the castle.

The Yule Ball.

Professor McGonagall had told their joint Slytherin-Gryffindor Transfiguration class in the first week of December that the Yule Ball would be held on Christmas night. Since then, girls had been giggling in groups, surreptitiously glancing at passing boys hopefully and blushing. Boys were flustered and embarrassed, stuttering out a proposal to the Ball. People began pairing off at alarming rates – by Christmas, there would hardly be one single person left in the castle.

Harry, the poor dear fellow, constantly found himself rushing from one class to another in an attempt to avoid the giggling hoards of girls that tried to corner him. Sarah had cackled for hours after three girls asked Harry in quick succession, with the socially awkward boy bluntly refusing them each time. Even Draco was amused – he made no effort to move closer to Harry or take him hand whenever Harry was approached, despite Harry’s pleading green eyes.

“I don’t understand why they keep asking me?” Harry whined one afternoon in the Slytherin common room. “I mean – it’s not like I’m not being obvious about the fact that I’m dating Draco!”

Draco rolled his eyes fondly. “It’s not like we go around snogging everywhere. Unlike Sarah and Fred,” he added with a smirk.

“I can’t even argue that one,” Sarah said in resignation.

“So, Harry,” Pansy said suddenly, one perfect dark eyebrow raised. “Have you asked Draco to the Ball yet?”

Harry blinked at Pansy at shock. “N-no? I just kinda assumed we would be going together…” he stuttered, looking at Draco in worry.

Draco rolled his eyes again. “Pansy, stop teasing the poor boy. Of course, we would be going together.”

“But, do you _want_ me to ask you?” Harry asked.

“You don’t have to – “ Draco began.

“No! I do! I will,” Harry said determinedly. He suddenly stood up, causing Draco to huff at being forced off Harry’s chest. “Sarah, come with me. We have some planning to do,” Harry declared, pulling Sarah up off the floor and dragging her out of the common room.

Draco and Pansy watched them go with wide, startled eyes and Sarah shrugged helplessly, allowing herself to be lead through the stone passage.

“So,” Sarah said, drawing out the word, “Any ideas for your boyfriend?”

“Well, how did Fred ask you?” Harry asked, suddenly sounding uncertain.

“We were just relaxing together and he asked me,” Sarah shrugged, remembering how they had been sitting in front of the fire one night, with Fred calmly playing with Sarah’s hair as she read. “There wasn’t much fanfare.”

“Not helpful,” Harry muttered.

He pulled her further into the dungeons, following an unfamiliar route.

“Where are we going?” Sarah asked in confusion.

“The kitchens,” Harry replied shortly. “I think I know what I can do.”

They suddenly emerged in front of the fruit bowl portrait which covered the entrance to the kitchens.

“I found that shortcut on the Map,” Harry explained as he tickled the pear. It giggled and transformed into a doorknob, which Harry grabbed and pulled.

House-elves immediately appeared before them, chattering loudly.

“Mister Harry! Mistress Sarah!” came an excited high-pitched voice from the crowd.

Dobby darted forward and wrapped his thin arms around Harry’s knees.

“Masters had come to see Dobby again!” he squeaked. “How came Dobby be helping masters?”

“Dobby, I need to ask a favour,” Harry said. He bent down so he was eye-to-eye with Dobby. “I’m going to ask Draco to go to the Yule Ball with me but I need your help. Will that be okay?”

Dobby nodded vigorously, his giant ears flapping. “Of course Harry Potter! Anything for Mister Harry and Draco!”

Harry beamed and began to explain his plan. It seemed that he wanted to set up a picnic in a small clearing near the lake, one that was surrounded by trees that could be strung with little lights. More House-elves began to join Dobby as Harry got more and more animated. They were all nodding excitedly and promising that it could be done.

“Thank you so much everyone,” Harry said gratefully. “This will be amazing.”

“So what do you need me for?” Sarah asked, jumping onto a table and swinging her legs back and forth.

“Nothing really,” Harry admitted. He joined her on the table, a sheepish smile on his face. “I just wanted your company. We haven’t had much time just the two of us.”

Sarah smiled and leant into his side, her smile widening when he wrapped an arm around her.

“I do miss our one-on-one chats,” she confessed. “We should try to do it more often.”

“Definitely,” Harry promised, grinning widely. “Do you think Draco and Fred will mind.”

Sarah scoffed. “Draco can live without either of us for a few hours. And Fred and I don’t really spend that much time together, with classes and everything.”

A sudden thought struck her and she sat up straighter, turning to Harry, who looked slightly startled.

“We need to go robe shopping!” she announced. Harry still looked confused.

“But why?” he said, frowning. “I have robes. Mrs Weasley bought them for me.”

Sarah rolled her eyes. “Yes, but now you’re dating Draco,” she explained, as if it were obvious. “That means you need _nicer_ robes and ones that complement his robes.”

“Does Draco have to buy new robes?” Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.

Sarah scoffed again. “Of course not,” she said, smiling and shaking her head, “that boy has too many robes as it is.”

Harry groaned and leant back on the table in defeat.

“Next Hogsmeade trip,” Sarah declared. “You, me, robes shopping.”

“I better get something out of this,” Harry muttered.

“You do,” Sarah said brightly. “ _New robes_.”

Harry just groaned again.

***

Harry’s Ball proposal for Draco went excellently. Sarah hadn’t seen Draco blush as much in his entire life as he had when he and Harry had returned from their date.

“Please, spare us the details,” Blaise drawled from the couch in front of the fire in the Slytherin common room. “Some of us don’t need that image running through our heads.”

“We didn’t do anything like that, you wanker!” Draco said, still blushing a bright red. “It was just really sweet.”

Harry smiled proudly beside him and kissed Draco quickly before saying his goodbyes.

“Hermione wants me to work on the egg,” he said miserably, waving at their group. “I can’t get out of it this time.”

“Remember, entrance hall tomorrow morning!” Sarah called at his retreating back. He visibly sighed and flashed her his middle finger before disappearing through the stone passage.

Sarah just laughed brightly.

***

Harry was waiting for Sarah in the entrance hall the next morning as promised. His arms were crossed grumpily over his thick winter coat and his beanie managed to conceal most of his frown.

“Why the grumpy face?” Sarah cooed, squeezing his red cheeks when she was close enough.

“Piss off,” he mumbled, swatting her hands away and trying to restrain a smile.

“Well,” she said cheerfully, “let’s go, shall we?”

She offered her arm to Harry, who rolled his eyes in a way eerily similar to Draco, but accepted.

Despite Sarah’s thick coat over Draco’s warmest sweater, she still shivered slightly as they walked onto the snow-covered grounds.

Sarah tugged Fred’s beanie further down her head and huffed into her gloves.

“It’s cold as fuck out here,” she huffed, watching as her breath froze in the air. “Let’s get to the shops as soon as we can before we freeze our noses off.”

“It’s not my nose I’m worried about,” Harry muttered with a smirk.

Sarah gasped and smacked his arm and he laughed joyfully.

They made quick progress down the lane leading to Hogsmeade and exhaled a great sigh of relief as they stepped into the warm interior of Gladrags Wizardwear.

Sarah quickly dragged Harry over to the formal robes.

“Draco’s wearing black,” she stated, viewing the offered robes with a critical eye, “that means you want to have some colour. Also, with your dark hair, you don’t want too much black between the two of you.”

She thumbed through a few robes until her eyes snagged on a silver-grey which matched Draco’s eyes. She knew it was cliché but she grabbed the robes anyway.

“Hold these,” she commanded Harry, who obediently listened.

Sarah added a few more robes to the stack: a lovely dark navy with black lining, deep emerald with silver lining (“To embrace your inner Slytherin,” Sarah winked), a burgundy which Sarah thought would match Harry’s hair, and a deep gold pair.

“Go try them on,” Sarah ordered, shooing Harry away toward the dressing rooms as she sat on the comfortable seat facing them.

Each time he emerged, Sarah directed him to turn various ways, try different combinations of shirts and ties, adjust the fit, until finally, she made a decision.

“The emerald ones,” she said, nodding to herself. “They’ll go perfectly with Draco’s and the silver matches his eyes. The emerald also brings out your eyes.”

“You sure?” Harry checked, looking closely at the chosen robes.

“Yep!” Sarah said brightly. “Let’s pay for these and then go bet some butterbeer.”

Sarah hauled the robes and extras she had grabbed onto the counter, smiling widely at the wizard behind it.

Along with the robes, Sarah had grabbed a grey shirt, black trousers and polished black loafers.

“I’m not going to force you into a tie when you’ll inevitably take it off within five minutes,” she explained at Harry’s questioning glance.

“Fair enough,” he shrugged.

At last, everything was paid for and packed and Sarah and Harry were hurriedly dashing through the snowfall and into the Three Broomsticks.

“Oh, Rosmerta, you have no idea how much I love you,” Sarah gushed as the barmaid brought them their drinks.

Rosmerta smiled and ruffled first Sarah’s, then Harry’s hair. “You two remind me so much of your parents,” she said wistfully. “Oh, I miss those troublemakers.”

She walked away after one more sad, nostalgic smile, leaving Harry and Sarah in subdued silence.

“Do you think Remus and Sirius will let me stay with you guys this summer?” Harry asked unexpectedly.

Sarah choked on her drink in surprise. “Of course, Harry,” she said, coughing. “You’re more than welcome whenever.”

Harry smiled slightly into his drink.

They spent the rest of the afternoon wandering through Hogsmeade, occasionally stopping to get Christmas gifts for their friends. Harry stopped in at Honeydukes to get Draco some more Sugar Quills. At one point, Rita Skeeter appeared, Quick-Quotes Quill in hand and Sarah gleefully gave her the finger, smiling widely at the reporter’s flabbergasted expression.

When it began to get dark, they made their way back to the castle, stopping briefly so Sarah could drop her purchases off in her dormitory before the two of them made their way to the Gryffindor common room, where Draco had elected to study with Hermione for the day.

***

“Come on, Hermione, just tell us,” Ron wheedled again.

Hermione had refused to tell them who had asked her to the Ball, after Ron’s horrendous assumption that she could just go with him.

“For the last time, Ronald, _no_!” Hermione snapped.

“Ron, if you’re not going to shut up, _leave_ ,” Sarah said without looking up from her work.

Draco, Harry, Sarah, Hermione and Ron were all sitting around their favourite table in the back of the library, trying to get some last-minute work done before the holidays began tomorrow.

Keyword being _trying_. Ron had refused to complete his work and was instead insistently trying to get Hermione to spill, thus driving Sarah slowly spare.

Draco’s eyebrow was twitching in annoyance, something Harry soon noticed. He touched his best friend’s arm and said, “Maybe you see if Seamus and Dean want to go flying?”

“What about you? D’you wanna come?” Ron asked, already getting up.

“Nah, I’ve got to finish this essay, sorry mate,” Harry said after a pointed glance from Draco at his unfinished Potions essay.

“Tough luck, mate,” Ron said in goodbye.

“Thank Merlin, finally some quiet,” Sarah muttered. She still hadn’t fully forgiven Ron for deserting Harry and them the previous month and usually found interactions with the redhead to be tiring.

At that moment, Viktor, Mila and Aleksander waltzed into the library. Sarah waved them over and they began picking their way towards the group.

Hermione groaned slightly.

“Just great,” she said sourly, “now his fan club will follow behind him and we’ll never get anything done!”

She was right.

Not even a minute after Viktor had entered, a large group of giggling girls surged through the doors. Madam Pinch glowered at them but they ignored her, instead creeping further into the library to try to find seats closest to Viktor.

“I’m sorry,” grunted Viktor, eyeing the girls sourly.

Mila and Aleksander laughed brightly and Madam Pinch didn’t even tell them off. The giggle got louder as the girls spotted Aleksander and Harry.

“That’s it,” Sarah snapped, standing up. She marched to the girls and glared at them. “If you’re not going to respect people’s privacy and their intention to study, then _get out_!”

The girls stared at her in shock so she pulled out her wand. Some of them darted away while others just eyed her warily.

“We’re not doing anything,” one brave one said haughtily. A glance down at her tie confirmed she was a Gryffindor. “You can’t kick us out.”

“Want to test that theory?” Sarah threatened. “If you don’t stop following Viktor and his friends around, I _will_ hex you.”

The haughty Gryffindor quivered slightly and Sarah took another step forward.

“This is a _library_ and a school, _not_ a viewing zoo,” she hissed, the girls’ eyes widening in fear. “Get the _fuck_ out before I report you all to the headmaster.”

The girls scattered.

Satisfied, Sarah turned around and dropped back into her seat. Her friends were looking at her with a mixture of shock and awe. Only Draco wasn’t staring at her, he was editing Harry’s Potions essay.

“What – how - ?” Harry spluttered.

“It’s called intimidation, love,” Sarah replied breezily. “I wouldn’t expect you to know about it, considering those big, green eyes.”

Harry flushed as Draco snorted, even Hermione let out a small chuckle.

“Viktor, I don’t know how you stand them,” Draco commented, still pouring over the essay. He crossed out a large chunk and began writing edits underneath. Harry looked on slightly warily.

Viktor sighed. “It is very annoying,” he said. “No matter how much I try, they vill alvays find me.”

“At least at Durmstrang everyone is used to him,” Mila added.

“Yeah, everyone knows there’s nothing really that great about him,” Aleksander teased, throwing a thick arm around Viktor’s shoulders. “He’s just a big softie with some talent for riding a broom.”

Viktor smiled at his friend and pushed his arm off.

“Have you all got dates for the Ball?” Sarah asked curiously as she began to work on her Charms essay.

“Yes,” confirmed Mila. “Aleksander and I are going together.”

“Viktor hasn’t told us who he asked,” Aleksander added sourly.

“It is private,” said Viktor, blushing slightly, “You vill find out soon.”

Sarah noticed that Hermione was blushing slightly too and smiled to herself.

After a few more hours, Fred appeared and convinced them all to stop studying and to come join him, George, Lee and Ron in a snowball fight outside.

Harry, Viktor and Mila eagerly agreed and dragged a slightly reluctant Sarah, Draco, Hermione and Aleksander with them.

***

Sarah awoke very suddenly on Christmas Day to Harry’s shout of surprise. She and Draco had camped out in the Gryffindor boy’s room the night before. Draco sat up in Harry’s bed, his hair a mess and his expression startled.

“ _Dobby?_ ” Harry yelled, scrambling away from the elf which was sitting on his chest. Draco gripped him to stop the other boy from falling off the bed onto Sarah. “Don’t _do_ that!”

“Dobby is sorry, sir!” squeaked Dobby anxiously, jumping back with his long fingers over his mouth. “Dobby is only wanted to wish Harry Potter ‘Merry Christmas’ and bring him a present, sir! Harry Potter did say Dobby could come and see him sometimes, sir!”

“It’s okay,” said Harry, still breathing rather faster than usual, “Just – just prod me or something in the future, all right, don’t bend over me like that…”

Harry’s shout had awoken the other boys in the dorm as well as Sarah. All of them were peering through the gaps in their own hangings, heavy-eyed and tousle-haired.

“Someone attacking you, Harry?” Seamus asked sleepily.

“No, it’s just Dobby,” Harry muttered, leaning comfortably next to Draco against his headboard. “Go back to sleep.”

“Nah…presents!” said Seamus, spotting the large pile at the foot of his bed. “Sarah, get up here!”

Sarah scrambled up from the floor and gathered her own gifts, jumping on the end of Seamus’s bed, careful to avoid the presents.

In her peripheral, she noticed Dobby give Harry his gift – a pair of mismatched socks. Harry quickly scrambled to give Dobby an old pair of his Uncle Vernon’s socks and Ron threw him a pair of violet ones as well as his Weasley sweater. Dobby looked as if he were about to cry.

Sarah turned her attention back to her own gifts when Seamus threw a piece of wrapping paper at her.

“Holy shit, Draco!” she shouted, observing the intricately designed book and quill. The book was light but had a beautiful snow-covered forest scene depicted on its leather cover and the quill was covered in delicate, handwritten runes. The notes attached to it said that Draco had charmed it so that anything written in it would appear in a corresponding book, and vice versa.

“I gave Fred the other book,” he revealed, leaning back against Harry. The pair had finished wrapping and their gifts lay mingled at the foot of Harry’s bed. “Thought you could use a way to talk without having to cross the entire castle.”

“Thank you!” she cried, jumping on top of the blond. Harry huffed from underneath their combined weight.

“Harry and I have the same,” Draco continued. “I was also thinking of charming some so that all of us can write in it.”

“This is brilliant, Draco!” Sarah gushed. “I love it!”

Draco blushed slightly.

After everyone had finished, they met Hermione in the common room and began the descent to breakfast.

Fred found her at the Slytherin table as she and Draco were saying hello to the others.

“Did Draco seriously make this?” He said excitedly, holding up his own personalised book. His cover was of a mountain range at dusk, the shadows moving slowly across the ground.

“He did,” Sarah replied proudly. “Isn’t it wonderful?”

“Wonderful?” Fred said, shaking his head in astonishment, “It’s _ingenious_!”

Draco flushed slightly. He had been thanking Blaise for his gift but could clearly overhear Fred’s words.

“Come on,” Fred said, grabbing both of their arms, “You’re Gryffindors today!”

He dragged them toward the rowdy Gryffindor table, ignoring their protests and attempts to escape.

After breakfast, they spent more of the morning in Gryffindor Tower, where everyone was enjoying their presents, then returned to the Great Hall for a magnificent lunch, which included at least a hundred turkeys and Christmas puddings, and large piles of Cribbage’s Wizarding Crackers.

They went out onto the grounds in the afternoon; the snow was untouched except for the deep channels made by the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students on their way up to the castle. Hermione chose to watch the snowball fight between Sarah, Draco, Harry and the Weasleys rather than participate.

At five o’clock, she was dragging Sarah and Draco back upstairs to get ready for the Ball.

“I understand why you brought me up here,” Sarah said as she collapsed on Hermione’s bed, “but why Draco?”

“You already said that Draco was better at makeup than you,” Hermione said easily. “And I trust him more with my hair as well. You sometimes look related to Harry by how messy your hair gets.”

“That’s because I _am_ related to Harry,” Sarah rolled her eyes. The others just ignored her.

They spent a few hours taming Hermione’s hair with Sleakeazy’s potion. The eventually managed to get the curls to fall in a silky wave down her back and Draco spent an exorbitant time carefully transforming it into a stunning updo with some curls strategically left down to frame Hermione’s face.

“That looks _amazing_!” Sarah gushed, brushing out her own hair.

Hermione and Draco blushed and smiled at each other in the mirror.

“My turn, love,” Sarah said brightly, plonking herself into Hermione’s vacated seat. “All your training has lead up to this moment.”

Draco rolled his eyes but began styling Sarah’s hair. She had changed it back to her usual auburn colour but had lightened it, making it shine in the light reminiscent of her mother’s. Draco meticulously pulled the longer strands into a crown braid on top of her head, weaving in some small blood-red flowers. Smaller strands framed her face in soft curls.

She raised her eyebrow at Draco. “Not bad, love, not bad at all.”

“That’s only because you made me practice for hours until you were happy,” he grouched, smiling slightly.

Hermione said down to start her makeup and Sarah took her opportunity to pounce.

“You’re going with Viktor aren’t you?” she said, smirking when the other girl jumped and looked up in shock.

“How did you - ?” Hermione started and then sighed. “Actually, no, I’m not surprised you figured it out.”

“I think it’s cute,” Sarah observed, “he’s lovely.”

“He’s also four years older than us,” Hermione pointed out. “I’m not sure if I want anything to come of it.”

“Fred’s two years old than me,” Sarah shrugged, “but he doesn’t mind that I want to take it slow. I understand about Viktor, though. You need to do what you’re comfortable with.”

Hermione smiled at her through the mirror and put the finishing touches on her makeup. She had gone for a very natural look, just adding a touch of shimmery powder to her eyes and mascara. She also put on some shiny lip-gloss.

Sarah kept her makeup to a minimum as well, except for her lips, which she painted a deep red to match her dress.

Draco stole the chair when they were done and began styling his own hair so that it looked artfully tousled.

“Harry likes it when it isn’t slicked back,” he muttered at their matching grins, blushing a pale pink.

At last, they got into their clothes. Draco’s black robes fit his body perfectly, showing off his thin waist and hips and displaying his muscular, lean form. Hermione’s periwinkle dress hugged her gently curves as if fell in layers to the floor. It was elegant yet stunning. Sarah’s own dress was a deep burgundy that accentuated her figure without looking like a second skin. Lace in the design of leaves and flowers covered her arms and bodice, where it formed an elegant V-neck before dropping in a silky waterfall of fabric to the floor.

“Ready?” Hermione asked as the clock struck seven o’clock. The other girls in Hermione’s dorm had come in during the last few hours and had already left for the entrance hall.

“Yes,” Sarah said, slipping her shoes on. “I told the boys to wait in the entrance hall – I want to make an entrance.”

“So dramatic,” Draco said, offering his arm first to Sarah, then to Hermione.

“You can’t say you don’t want to show off a bit,” Sarah counted, accepting his arm and allowing him to lead them through the now empty common room and corridors.

The entrance hall was packed when the three of them arrived at the top of the marble staircase.

“Ready to make our boys collapse?” Sarah teased, straightening Draco’s collar.

Draco and Hermione just gave her matching smirks and they all moved forward.

Startled gasps and whispers broke out across the hall and Sarah smirked as more than one person pointed at them.

Sarah immediately saw Fred, Harry and Viktor waiting in the crowd. She smiled brightly as their jaws dropped in unison and they all began to blink quickly and rub their eyes.

“Sarah – you – you look – “ Fred floundered as she reached him. Draco let go of her and Hermione’s arms before turning to Harry, who looked like he’d been struck by a Bludger.

His mouth gaped open and closed but he was speechless.

“You clean up quite nicely yourself,” Sarah said to Fred, admiring his fitted black robes.

He was still blinking at her in shock, so she leant forward, grabbed his lapels and kissed him lightly.

“Shall we get ready to go in?” Sarah suggested, smiling blindingly at Fred. He seemed as if he couldn’t pull his eyes away from her.

“Draco, darling,” Sarah said as she began to lead Fred to where the other pairs were milling around, “try not to let Harry step on your feet too much – those shoes are expensive.”

Draco smirked and wrapped an arm around Harry, who was still staring at his boyfriend in awe.

“I’m sure we’ll be fine,” Draco said, kissing Harry lightly on the cheek.

Harry seemed to emerge from his trance and turned to Sarah.

“You look absolutely stunning,” he called, “And so do you Hermione – wait you’re going with _Viktor_?”

Sarah laughed as Hermione rolled her eyes and began to chastise Harry, who obviously hadn’t noticed Viktor up until that point.

Fred led her proudly to where George was standing with Angelina Johnson. The tall, black girl looked absolutely gorgeous in gold robes.

“Angelina!” Sarah gasped. “You look stunning!”

Angelina blushed a pretty pink and smiled at Sarah. “Say’s you!” she exclaimed. “You look like one of those goddesses out of the children’s myths.”

“Doesn’t she?” Fred said happily, gazing at Sarah with a smitten look on his face.

Pansy’s shriek interrupted Sarah’s response and she felt herself suddenly being wrapped in a tight hug.

“You look amazing!” Pansy cried, pulling back to look closer at Sarah. “Ugh, Millicent is going to be _so_ smug. I was sure you’d wear silver. Now I owe her five galleons.”

Sarah burst into laughter and the girl in question stepped up to her girlfriend’s side. “Not bad, Sarah,” she complimented. “Even your boyfriend looks handsome – that’s an achievement for a ginger.”

“You have no idea how hard it is to find robes that go with red hair,” Fred lamented, wrapping an arm around Sarah’s waist. “When can we go in?”

His question was answered by Professor McGonagall calling out, “Champions over here, please~”

The crowd separated to let the four pairs of partners through. Cedric had Cho Chang on his arm and Fleur was accompanied by the Ravenclaw Quidditch Captain, Roger Davies. Once they were all standing around Professor McGonagall, the doors opened to allow everyone else inside.

Sarah and Fred joined the crowd surging through the doors and Sarah winked at Draco, Harry, Hermione and Viktor as they passed. She caught sight of Ron walking past with a sour expression on his face, Padma Patil standing next to him in stunning pink robes.

Sarah gaped as she entered the Hall. The walls had been covered in sparkling silver frost, with hundreds of garlands of mistletoe and ivy crossing the starry, black ceiling. The House tables had vanished; instead, there were about a hundred smaller, lantern-lit ones, each seating about a dozen people. There was a large round table at the top of the Hall were the Judges were already sitting.

Fred led her over to a table close to the top table and held her chair out for her. She smiled gratefully at him as George and Angelina, Pansy and Millicent, Theo and Daphne, Lee and Katie, and Blaise and, to everyone’s surprise, Luna, joined them at the table. Ron had joined a table with the other Gryffindor boys and their dates.

Once everyone had settled, the doors opened again and the champions walked past everyone to the top table amid applause. Hermione beamed at Sarah as she passed with Viktor, who also sent her a happy smile. Draco and Harry were smiling ear-to-ear and gripping each other’s arms tightly. Everyone had gotten used to them dating now and the only sour looks they got were from the jealous girls or boys who wanted them for themselves.

When the last person had taken their seat, Dumbledore picked up his menu and said very clearly to his plate, “Pork chops!”

Soon everyone followed his lead and the Hall filled with excited conversation. Sarah turned to Blaise beside her and raised one eyebrow in question.

“What?” the dark-skinned boy answered, his face a perfect expression of innocence.

“I didn’t know you were friendly with Luna,” said Sarah, placing her elbow on the table and resting her hand on it. She turned a coy look on the boy and smirked.

“She joined me in the library while I was studying,” Blaise said simply, his lips twitching slightly, “she was very lovely so I asked if you wished to accompany me to the Ball.”

“That’s wonderful, darling,” Sarah said, sitting back upright. She leant around him and addressed his date, “Luna, it’s so lovely to get to speak to you again. How have you been?”

“Very well, thank you, Sarah,” Luna said in her dreamy voice. “That Wrackspurts have been clearing up this month – it’s been very refreshing.”

“Have they?” Sarah said while Pansy shot Blaise and incredulous look. “I’m afraid I don’t know too much about Wrackspurts, would you be interested in telling me about them sometime?”

Luna’s face lit up prettily. Sarah could understand why Blaise may have been interested in her.

“That would be lovely, Sarah!” Luna said brightly. “I suggest that Harry joins us, his head is usually quite full of them.”

“I’ll be sure to tell him,” promised Sarah, subtly hitting Fred when he coughed a laugh.

When all the food had been consumed, Dumbledore stood up and asked the students to do the same. Then, with a wave of his wand, all the tables zoomed back along the walls leaving the floor clear, and then he conjured a raised platform into existence along the right wall. A set of drums, several guitars, a lute, a cello, and some bagpipes were set upon it.

The Weird Sisters now trooped onto the stage to wildly enthusiastic applause; they were all extremely hairy and dressed in black robes that had been artfully ripped and torn. Millicent in particular was very excited to see them; she was constantly playing their wizarding records in the dorm.

Sarah smiled widely as Draco led Harry to the dancefloor. The raven-haired boy was now looking nervous but he relaxed infinitesimally when Draco placed his arms in the right positions and smiled gently at him.

“They are _so_ cute,” Pansy whispered from beside Sarah.

Sarah wholeheartedly agreed. The music started and the pairs began to spin around the floor. Sarah was pleased to see that their rushed dance lessons with Harry had paid off – he lead Draco smoothly around and only stumbled occasionally.

Sarah pulled Fred onto the dance floor as soon as they could and within seconds, they were spinning gracefully throughout the other couples, the lights shining brightly above them.

“I didn’t know you could dance,” Fred said, holding her closely to his body.

Sarah smiled up at him and saw his eyes widen slightly. “Years of pureblood training, darling,” she replied, stepping into an elegant twirl, “I’ve been dancing ballroom since I could walk.”

“You look beautiful,” Fred suddenly whispered, leaning down to press a kiss to her lips.

Sarah blushed and hid her face in the crook of his neck as the song slowed down slightly.

After a few more songs, Sarah heard a voice beside them.

“Mind if I cut in?”

Sarah smiled brightly up at Draco.

“Go ahead,” Fred replied, passing Sarah’s hand to Draco. “I need a drink anyway.”

“Do _not_ spike that punch!” Sarah called to his retreating back. He just turned around and smirked before disappearing.

“Shall we?” Draco asked, positioning them.

“Just like old times,” Sarah replied with a smile, just as the music started anew.

Draco led her through the familiar steps and she saw Harry and Fred watching them from the sidelines, both looking entranced. Sarah could understand why: the light above them was making Draco’s hair shine like molten white-gold and his silver eyes were shining brightly with joy. Sarah laughed as Draco directed her into a complicated spin, causing her dress to flare out around her in a bloodred ripple.

She grasped his shoulder tightly when she came back in and sighed happily. “I love you, you know,” she said to Draco.

The blond looked down at her in surprise, a soft smile growing on his face. “I love you too, Sarah.”

“Good,” she replied. “All my hard effort has paid off.”

Draco’s laugh echoed around them as Blaise and Pansy appeared, each demanding a dance with Sarah and Draco.

As Sarah spun away with Blaise and Draco with Pansy, she noticed that Harry was now sitting with Ron at his table, trying to talk to the sour-looking boy. Padma was sitting beside them looking miserable.

After a song with Blaise, she whispered in his ear, “Do me a favour and please go after Padma to dance, the poor girl looks desolate.”

“Well, she did come here with Weasley,” Blaise drawled, leading Sarah off the dancefloor.

“Excuse you,” Sarah said haughtily, “ _I_ came with a Weasley.”

“One of the only good ones,” Blaise tutted in a teasing tone. A winning smile crossed his face as they reached the table. “Padma, darling, would you be interested in a dance? If Ronald has no objections?”

Ron just grunted and Padma stood in a huff, accepting Blaise’s hand gratefully. Blaise shot Sarah a wink and led the other girl away.

Sarah stood in front of Harry and Ron.

“What’s got you sulking here like someone’s killed your crup?” Sarah asked without delay.

Ron just scowled and crossed his arms over his chest.

Harry sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Er – Hermione,” he said haltingly.

“Ah,” Sarah nodded. “Well, Ronald, it’s your own fault for being a misogynistic wanker and demanding that Hermione comes to the Ball with you after wrongly believing that there was no possible way she could have gotten a date.”

Ron and Harry both looked shocked from her blunt words but she didn’t care.

“Stop sulking,” Sarah continued, “Viktor asked Hermione. Get over it and don’t ruin this night for everyone else because you’re in a funk.”

“I’m not in a – a _funk,”_ Ron said in indignation. His face was starting to go red.

“Then what do you call this then?” Sarah said, indicating Ron’s posture and sour expression. “Just ask Hermione for a dance – and for fucks sake, be _polite_ about it.”

“I don’t want to dance with her!” Ron spluttered. “I just don’t understand why – “

“Don’t understand what?”

Hermione had appeared behind them, smiling widely with a slight flush on her cheeks.

“Oh, Sarah, Draco wanted me to tell you that Theo wants a dance. Something about Mistress Diablo?” Hermione added.

Sarah smirked. “Ah, yes, Mistress Diablo.”

She didn’t offer any other explanation and her friends just stared at her curiously before moving on.

“Anyway,” Hermione said, “Don’t understand what, Ron?”

Ron puffed up slightly and said, “I don’t understand why you would want to go to the Ball with Krum!”

“I – I beg your _pardon_?” Hermione said in shock. Even Harry and Sarah were staring at Ron.

“You heard me!” Ron said angrily. “He’s from Durmstrang! He’s competing against Harry! You’re – you’re – “ Ron was obviously casting around for words strong enough to describe Hermione’s crime, “ _fraternising with the enemy_ , that’s what you’re doing!”

Hermione’s mouth fell open.

“Don’t be stupid!” she said after a moment. “The _enemy!_ Sarah’s been friends with him for _months_! Even Harry is his friend.”

“You didn’t have any problem with it when you wanted his autograph,” Sarah said coldly, her posture rigid.

Ron spluttered, his face an angry red. “He’s Karkaroff’s student, isn’t he? He’s just trying to get closer to Harry – get inside information on him!”

“Ron that’s ridiculous,” Harry said, his voice surprisingly calm, “You know that Sarah or Draco would tell us if that were the case.”

“Would they?” Ron said savagely, “You’d believe anything she or your _boyfriend_ said.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Harry said, obviously not liking Ron’s tone.

Sarah was fuming and Hermione had placed a hand on her arm to stop her from strangling Ron.

“Well, isn’t it just _perfect_ that now that you’re a champion, Malfoy suddenly finds you interesting?” Ron spat out. “You never would have found him draping himself all over you without Rita Skeeter around, making him look like a phenomenon despite his horrid family and _proclivities_ – “

Sarah hadn’t even realised she had moved until her palm connected with Ronald’s face.

Hermione gasped, whether at his words or the slap, Sarah didn’t know. Harry was sitting in shock, his face blank as he stared at his best friend.

Ron seemed to realise what he’d said and he paled significantly. “I – I – “

“You what?” hissed Sarah. “You _what,_ Ronald?”

She stepped back, breathing heavily.

“How – how _dare_ you,” she continued in the same tone. “How _dare_ you say that about Draco. I don’t know what possessed you to think that but I am _disgusted_. You foul – you – you _loathsome – “_

“Is that what you really think, Ron?” Harry asked quietly. Ron turned to look at him helplessly. “Do you really think that Draco is only with me to improve his family’s reputation? Have you even paid _any_ attention over the past four years?” Harry was still staring that blank stare at Ron. “And _horrid proclivities_ – what does that mean, Ron? Do we disgust you? Two boys?”

Sarah saw that Harry wasn’t as calm as she thought – he was shaking with anger, his green eyes morphing from a blank stare to a fiery gaze.

“N-no – “ Ron stuttered. “I don’t care if you’re gay.”

“Well, that’s wonderful,” Harry said spitefully. ”I would really hate it if my best friend were disgusted by me. But no, he just seems to secretly hate my boyfriend.”

Harry stood up, towering over Ron.

“I don’t want to you ruining this night more than you already have,” he said, visibly trying to calm himself down. “I’m going to go dance with Sarah to calm down and then I’m going to find my _amazing_ boyfriend and dance with him, maybe snog him a bit.”

He put his arm around Sarah, who was still fuming but struggled to find the right words to fling at the redhead. It turned out Hermione, who had so far been silent with shock, was all they needed.

She turned a dark glare on Ron and said very softly, “I think it would be smart to leave now, Ron. And don’t talk to _any_ of us until you figure out how you’re going to come and grovel for our forgiveness – if we’re even willing to give it to you.”

Hermione turned away from the distraught boy and marched fiercely back to where Viktor had been waiting for her.

“Come on, we’re leaving,” Harry said to Sarah gently, guiding her away with one last, lingering look at Ron.

Harry walked her to the dance floor and drew her in close, wrapping his arms tightly around her. At first, Sarah thought it was just him who was shaking but she soon realised she was shaking as well.

“How could he - ?” Harry tried, his voice breaking. “I really thought we were better.”

“He’s angry and jealous and doesn’t think,” Sarah said flatly, tears pricking her eyes. “But I will never _ever_ forgive him for saying those things about Draco.”

“Do you think he really believes them?” Harry whispered as they moved slowly between the other couples.

Sarah thought for a moment, her chin resting on Harry’s shoulder. “No, I don’t,” she said at last, slightly reluctantly. “He would have made it known ages ago. I think he just said the first thing he could think of that would upset us – but I don’t think he really thinks of Draco that way, his family yes, but not Draco.”

Harry remained quiet but his shaking subsided. He sighed into her hair. “I might forgive him…in time, I mean…and after he’s done sufficient grovelling,” Harry admitted. “He’s a good friend – an absolute idiot and git at most times…but a good friend.”

“We’re all going to need time,” Sarah said, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.

She caught Draco’s eye over Harry’s shoulder and knew that the blond could immediately tell something was wrong.

Sarah pulled back from Harry and inclined her head in Draco’s direction. Harry turned around and he slumped slightly.

“Let’s go have that fun conversation,” he said, with as much enthusiasm as one walking to the gallows.

Draco was, as expected, furious. Not as much as with what Ron had said but more that he thought Draco didn’t care about Harry.

“You know I care about you, right?” Draco asked Harry, a slight tinge of anxiety to his tone.

“Of course, you idiot,” Harry said fondly. He drew Draco in for a kiss that soon deepened.

“Well, I’ll just fuck off then while you two eat each other’s faces, shall I?” Sarah said sarcastically, a broad smile on her face.

Draco pulled back and smirked. “That would be lovely actually. I’ll see you tomorrow morning?”

Sarah rolled her eyes. “Just at least be decent enough to find an empty room so you don’t scar some poor innocent child.”

Draco just gave her the finger as Harry pulled his closer.

Sarah laughed and walked away. She saw Hermione and Viktor talking intently, Hermione subtly wiping her eyes. Sarah was about to go over to them when she felt an arm wrap around her waist.

“Everything okay?” a soft voice said in her eye. She turned to find Fred watching her worriedly. “I saw you slap Ron – what did he do now?”

Sarah explained what happened in a tired tone. Fred only grew more and more outraged.

“That little shit,” he said at last, causing Sarah to laugh slightly. “Anyone with two eyes can see how much Draco and Harry care about each other. I saw them on my way over here – glad they were on their way somewhere else, it looked like it was about to become heated.”

Sarah managed a fuller laugh this time and Fred smiled.

“Ron’s an idiot,” he said seriously, gripping the side of her face. “He’ll come to his senses and then come crawling back – you guys are the best friends he’s got and even he’s not stupid enough to give you up. Just make him work for it.” Fred’s eyes were sparkling as he kissed Sarah’s nose gently.

“How ‘bout we get out of here and go get some hot chocolate from the kitchens?” Fred suggested. “And then we can find a cosy corner and watch the stars?”

“Sounds lovely,” Sarah whispered, kissing him deeply. “You’re brother’s not invited.”

Fred’s laugh echoed on the air even when they were long gone.


	11. Chapter Eleven

Harry was beginning to stress about the egg. Draco had thought that the screeching had sounded familiar but he couldn’t remember what it was. Cedric had given him an obscure reference at Christmas to take the egg for a bath – something that he was, admittedly, quite hesitant to do.

“I told him straight up that the task was dragons,” Harry huffed a late January evening, “and all he tells me is to ‘ _take a bath’_ , really?”

“Maybe you should do it,” suggested Sarah.

Harry looked up her incredulously.

They had taken one of their designated Sarah/Harry days and were now sitting near the lake, covered with layers of warming charms and blankets, Harry lying in Sarah’s lap as she rested against their favourite tree. Hot chocolate made by the house-elves sat beside them, a slow spiral of steam drifting up from it.

“I’m serious,” Sarah said. “Take a bath with it. Draco and I can come with you if you’re nervous.”

Harry flushed a bright pink and choked on his breath. “Sarah - ! A bath! I’m not – I’m not _bathing_ with you!”

“Oh, don’t be such a prude,” Sarah huffed, hitting Harry’s shoulder gently. “And besides, I assumed we’d all be in swimsuits – Despite having seen Draco naked, I am _not_ ready to see you starkers.”

“You’ve seen Draco naked?” Harry asked in shock.

She just stared down at him unimpressed. “I lived with the boy for the majority of my life – of course, I’ve seen him naked.”

“ _Anyway_ ,” she continued, cutting off Harry’s next question, “it might be worth checking it out. Who knows? Maybe Cedric gave you a serious hint.”

“Do you really think so?” Harry asked uncertainly. His emerald eyes were tight with anxiety and he was biting his bottom lip slightly.

“ _Yes_ ,” Sarah stressed. She tugged his curls a bit, making him look up in indignation. “I wouldn’t have suggested it unless I thought we should check it out. And I know Draco will want to help, ergo, we all take a bath.”

Harry huffed. “Where are we going to find a bath that big?” he asked.

“Didn’t Cedric suggest the prefect’s bathroom?” Sarah reminded.

“Well…yes…”

“Brilliant,” Sarah decided. “Tonight then. You can come to Slytherin with Draco and me and then we can all go.”

Harry worried his lip a bit more before nodding.

“Okay, let’s do that.”

***

Draco checked Harry’s watch again for the fourth time that hour.

“We should go,” he said.

Blaise rolled his eyes from his potion lounging on the armchair near the fire.

“If you keep announcing your shagging schedule to everyone, I’ll throw you in the lake,” drawled Blaise.

Draco and Harry blushed identical shades of red.

“We’re – we’re not _shagging_!” spluttered Draco. “Sarah’s coming with us!”

“Kinky,” smirked Blaise.

Draco threw a pillow at him.

“If you’re not planning to engage in some amorous threesome,” Pansy started, ignored Harry and Draco’s scandalised gasps, “What _are_ you doing this late?”

“The less you know, Pans, the better,” Sarah said. “Okay, boys, I’m sick of Draco’s nagging – let’s go.”

“I don’t _nag_ …” Draco muttered as the three of them left the common room.

Harry pulled out his Invisibility Cloak and checked that no one was in the corridor before throwing it over the three of them.

“Did this thing get larger?” Sarah asked in confusion, noticing the extra space between her and the boys.

Harry looked closer and blinked in surprise. “I think it did,” he said in wonderment, “It would explain how my father and his friends used it until they graduated.”

They made their way quietly to the prefect’s bathroom where Harry whispered the password Cedric had given him (“Pine fresh”), and pushed the door open.

“Holy shit…” Sarah said in appreciation. “This almost makes me want to become a prefect next year.”

The bathroom was softly lit by a splendid candle-filled chandelier, and everything was made of white marble, including what looked like an empty, rectangular swimming pool sunk into the middle of the floor. About a hundred golden taps stood all around the pool’s edges, each with a differently coloured jewel set into its handle. There was also a diving board. Long white linen curtains hung at the windows; a large pile of fluffy white towels sat in a corner, and there was s single golden framed painting on the wall. It featured a blond mermaid who was fast asleep on a rock, her long hair over her face. It fluttered every time she snored.

Sarah, Draco and Harry immediately rushed to the taps and turned them all on. One tap gushed pink and blue bubbles the size of footballs; another poured ice-white foam so thick that Sarah thought it would support her weight if she cared enough to test it; a third sent heavily perfumed purple clouds hovering over the surface of the water. They amused themselves for a while turning the taps on and off, particularly enjoying the effect of one whose jet bounced off the surface of the water in large arcs. Then, when the deep pool was full of hot, foam and bubbles, which took a very short time considering its size, they turned off all the taps. They stripped to their swimsuits, Harry blushing slightly in embarrassment.

“Harry,” Sarah said in disbelief, “Why are you embarrassed? You’re _gay!”_

Harry jumped in the pool to avoid answering.

Sarah rolled her eyes and picked up the egg, calmly pushing Draco into the water when he couldn’t stop laughing.

“Let’s see what this egg does,” she declared. The boys swam closer to her as they stared at the egg.

Harry opened it. The wailing, screeching sound filled the bathroom, echoing and reverberating off the marble walls.

“Close it, you idiot!” Sarah yelled, hands clamped over her ears.

Harry quickly pushed the egg together, cutting off the sound.

“It doesn’t sound any different,” Harry complained, sagging slightly in the water.

“What did you expect? A sudden chorus of voices?” Draco said sarcastically.

“Well…I expected _something_ …”

“Harry, why would Cedric tell you to take a bath with it if he didn’t think something would happen?” Sarah asked reasonably.

“Well, obviously nothing happened,” mumbled Harry.

“Maybe you’re doing it wrong?” suggested Draco. “He told you to take a bath with it – why don’t you try putting it in the water?”

“ _In_ the water?” Harry repeated doubtfully.

“Well, it can’t hurt to try, can it?” Draco shrugged.

Harry, still looking extremely sceptical, pushed the egg underwater and opened it. This time it did not wail. A gurgling sound was coming out.

“We have to go underwater too, you dumbass,” Sarah said fondly. She took a deep breath and sunk under the bubbles, feeling the water displace around her as the boys followed.

A chorus of eerie voices was singing to them from the open egg in Harry’s hands.

“ _Come seek us where our voices sound,  
We cannot sing above the ground,  
And while you’re searching, ponder this:  
We’ve taken what you’ll sorely miss,  
An hour long you’ll have to look.  
And to recover what we took,  
But past an hour – the prospect’s black,  
Too late, it’s gone, it won’t come back.”_

Sarah let herself float upward and broke the bubbly surface, pushing the water out of her face. Draco and Harry burst up beside her and shook their heads vigorously, droplets spraying everywhere.

“Well…” Sarah said eventually. “That sounds ominous.”

They ducked underwater a few more times to make sure they could remember it line for line.

“So, I’ve got to go and look for people who can’t use their voice above the ground…” Harry said slowly. “Er…who could that be?”

“It’s obviously the merpeople,” Draco said. “What?” he asked when Harry looked at him in shock. “Everyone knows that they can’t speak above the water.”

“There are merpeople in the lake?” Harry asked in astonishment.

“Of course,” replied Sarah calmly. She was floating on her back and spreading her arms to make a foam angel. “We sometimes see them in the common room.”

Harry was gaping at them. Once he pulled himself together, he seemed to have thought of a different problem.

“Forget the merpeople for a moment,” he said in a rush, “if I’m meant to go into the lake to find them, then how am I supposed to _breathe_?”

Sarah and Draco were stumped.

“I know there are some charms that people sometimes use…” Draco said slowly, “But I don’t know what they are or how to perform them.”

Harry looked disheartened.

“At least we know where to start,” Sarah said brightly, trying to cheer Harry up. ‘Let’s not worry about it tonight – we have all this space to enjoy, we’ll think about it tomorrow.”

It wasn’t until Draco swam over to Harry and drew him in for a long kiss that Harry’s face finally lost its sombre expression.

“You’re right,” he said decidedly, “Tomorrow.”

***

“You said you’d already worked out that egg clue!” said Hermione indignantly when Harry told her to clue the next day.

“Keep your voice down!” said Harry crossly. I just need to – fine-tune it, all right?”

Her, Draco, Harry and Sarah were sitting in the back of Charms class with a table to themselves. Ron kept shooting them furtive looks, tinged with anguish, but they stubbornly ignored him. If he didn’t let go of his pride long enough to apologise for his shit behaviour, he didn’t deserve their attention.

Draco snorted slightly at Harry’s words and Harry sent him a betrayed look.

“The biggest problem is figuring out how Harry’s expected to breathe underwater for an hour,” Sarah commented, flicking her wand and banishing the pillow she was practicing on.

Harry’s Banishment Charm was wobbly and his pillow gave a half-hearted flop but didn’t fly into the box they were aiming for.

“Also…” he added quietly, “On my way back to the common room I got stuck in the trick step. I thought I saw Mr Crouch’s name in Snape’s office and – er – went to investigate,” he pointedly ignored the other’s disapproving glances, “and – er – well, Moody borrowed the Map. He got me out of a tight spot – Snape nearly found me. Apparently, Crouch has been ill and hasn’t been going to work. It’s odd that he would be rummaging through Snape’s office.”

“Harry, you can’t think about this, right now!” Hermione whispered furiously as she flicked her wand. Her pillow soared through the air and landed on top of Sarah and Draco’s. “You need to focus on the task!”

“I’m well aware of that, Hermione,” Harry said tightly. “I just want to know why Moody hinted that Dumbledore gave Snape another chance. What did he do with his first one?”

Draco and Sarah sat silently and didn’t offer an explanation. They knew the basics of what Snape had done when he was younger but it wasn’t something they were ready to share.

“Flick your wand more, Harry,” Sarah said instead.

Harry listened and to his obvious surprise, his pillow flew through the air and landed neatly on top of Hermione’s.

***

By the evening before the second task, they had still failed to figure out what to use to keep Harry breathing underwater for an hour. Harry, Sarah, Draco and Hermione were sitting in the library, desperately scanning through book after book of spells that could help Harry.

“It’s not good,” Harry said miserably. “We’ve looked for _weeks_ for found nothing.”

“Harry, you can’t give up now,” Hermione said quite sternly, “We’ll figure it out.”

“This is no use, though,” Draco said, snapping shut _Weird Wizarding Dilemmas_. “Who on earth wants to make their nose hair grow into ringlets?”

“I wouldn’t mind,” said Fred’s voice. “Be a talking point, wouldn’t it?”

Sarah, Draco, Harry and Hermione looked up. Fred and George had just emerged from behind some bookshelves.

“What’re you two doing here?” Sarah asked as Fred draped an arm over her shoulders.

“Looking for you,” said George. “McGonagall wants you, Hermione. And you, Draco.”

“Why?” said Hermione, looking surprised.

“Dunno…she was looking a bit grim, though,” said Fred.

“Why would McGonagall want to see me?” asked Draco.

“Apparently, Snape is with her,” said George, shrugging. “But beats us.”

Hermione and Draco stared at Harry and Sarah.

“We’ll meet you back in the Gryffindor common room,” Hermione told them as she got up to go with Draco – both of them looked very anxious. “Bring as many of these books as you can, okay?”

“Right,” said Harry uneasily.

“Anyway, we’re off,” Fred announced, dropping a kiss to Sarah’s head. “Good luck for tomorrow, Harry.”

“Thanks…” Harry muttered weakly.

By eight o’clock, Madam Pince had extinguished all the lamps and came to chivvy them both out of the library. Harry told Sarah that he would meet her at breakfast tomorrow – he wanted some time alone before the task. She reluctantly agreed and watched him walk away, staggering slightly under the weight of the books he was carrying.

On her way back to the Slytherin common room, she bumped in Neville in the entrance hall.

“Neville,” she said in surprise, “what are you doing at this hour?”

“I was helping Professor Sprout in Greenhouse Three,” he replied. Neville was covered in dirt and there were a few leaves sticking out of his blond hair. “What are you still doing out?”

Sarah sighed deeply. “I’ve been trying to help Harry for the next task.”

“But I thought the champions weren’t allowed outside help?” Neville said worryingly.

Sarah glanced around the deserted entrance hall. “Well, yes…” she said hesitantly, “but we need to figure out a way for Harry to breathe underwater for an hour. We’ve looked through everything we can think of and we still don’t know how.”

“Did you look at Gillyweed?” Neville asked.

“What?”

“Gillyweed,” the boy repeated, “it’s a water-plant. It’s used for deep water dives. It lets the person breathe underwater for a certain amount of time, depending on the amount ingested – although there are some debates about saltwater versus freshwater – “

“Neville, you’re brilliant!” Sarah said, grabbing Neville’s face and kissing his cheek excitedly. “Do you know where I can get Gillyweed before tomorrow?”

Neville had gone bright red and stuttered slightly, “We-well there should be some in the Potions supply closet?”

“Brilliant!” Sarah exclaimed again. She began to jog to the entrance to the dungeons. “I owe you one!” she called over her shoulder at the shocked boy.

She ran a bit further down when a sudden idea can to her.

“Dobby!”

Dobby appeared before her, large green eyes sparkling brightly.

“Mistress Sarah has called for Dobby!” he squeaked. “How can Dobby be helping, Mistress Sarah?”

“Dobby, I need you to do something really important for me, please?” Sarah said, crouching down to Dobby’s level. “It’s to help Harry.”

“Anything for Mistress Sarah and Harry Potter!” Dobby squealed.

“Right, I need you to go and find some Gillyweed for me,” Sarah said. “Make it enough for someone to be able to breathe underwater for just over an hour. Got it?”

Dobby nodded his head up and down vigorously. “Dobby can be doing that easily! Dobby will bring it to Mistress Sarah tomorrow morning in her room when he gets it!”

“Thank you so much, Dobby!”

Sarah gave him a quick hug and he left, looking as if he were about to burst into tears.

***

The next morning had Sarah vibrating with nerves as she waited outside the entrance hall for Harry. Dobby had already given her the Gillyweed and she had gone to show Draco, but had found his bed unslept in. She thought that maybe Draco had gone up to Gryffindor Tower to stay with Harry.

Fred was standing beside her, lazily munching on another piece of toast.

“Where _is_ he?” Sarah muttered. She glanced at Fred’s watch again and saw that breakfast was ending. “He’s going to be late!”

“Miss Deaumont!”

Professor McGonagall was striding toward her from inside the Great Hall.

“Yes, Professor?”

“Where is Mr Potter? He needs to be down at the lake in twenty minutes,” Professor McGonagall was looking stressed, her face pinched and slightly white.

“I don’t know, Professor,” Sarah replied anxiously. “He hasn’t come down yet. I was about to go and look for him.”

“Do that and bring him straight down.”

Professor McGonagall nodded once and walked away, exiting the entrance hall.

“I’ll see you down there,” Sarah said, leaning up to kiss Fred’s cheek quickly.

“I’ll save you a seat!” Fred called as Sarah raced up the marble staircase.

A few minutes later, she burst through the portrait hole and into the Gryffindor common room. Ron was just leaving.

“Sarah?” he said in confusion, “What are you doing here? Isn’t the next task about to start?”

“Harry hasn’t come down yet,” she answered quickly, rushing past the redhead boy.

“Tell him good luck from me, please?” Ron asked uncertainly.

Sarah turned back and saw that his ears were quite red and he looked embarrassed and slightly sad. Despite his abysmal attempts at apologising, she felt slightly bad for him.

“I will,” she told him. “But this doesn’t mean you’re forgiven. I’m still pissed.”

Ron nodded and she turned away, charging up the boy’s staircase into Harry’s dorm.

Harry’s curtains were drawn and Sarah wrenched them open, shouting, “Harry! Get up! You’re going to be late!”

Harry startled and fell out of his bed in a pile of blankets.

“Sarah?” he asked groggily. “What time is it?”

“The task starts in ten minutes!” she exclaimed. “Get up!”

He sat up and began changing out his pyjamas. Sarah had thrown him his swimsuit and shoes.

“Sarah, there’s no point,” he said dejectedly, “we haven’t figured out a way for – “

“I have!” she said distractedly, rummaging around for Harry’s wand. It had fallen onto the floor when he fell out of bed. “I bumped into Neville last night and he told me that Gillyweed will let you breathe underwater. I got Dobby to get me some. You have to eat it before you go into the water.”

“What – ?”

“No time! Let’s go!”

Harry finished dressing and Sarah pulled him from his room. The pair of them raced through the halls, passing startled students who were on their way down to the lake.

The seats that had encircled the dragons’ enclosure in November were now ranged along the opposite bank, rising in stands that were packed to the bursting point and reflected in the lake below.

“Where’s…Draco…Hermione…?” Harry gasped.

“I don’t know,” Sarah replied, panting heavily. She pointed at where the judges and the other champions were standing. “Over…there…”

They finally reached the judge’s table. Viktor, Cedric and Fleur were watching as they skidded to a halt, arms resting on their knees as they gasped for breath.

“Found…him…” Sarah announced, sucking in great lungfuls of breath.

“Marvellous!” Bagman announced, clapping Sarah on the shoulder.

She staggered slightly into Harry, using that moment to pass him the Gillyweed.

“Eat it as you go into the water,” she reminded him.

Harry nodded and strapped his wand to his wrist. Draco had gotten him a wand holster for Christmas – Sarah just hoped it was waterproof.

“Sarah, please go join the others in the stands,” Dumbledore said calmly.

Sarah hesitated for a moment but Harry smiled at her.

“Go, you can meet me once I’m done,” he said.

Sarah nodded and with one last look at the champions, left to go to the stands.

Fred, bless his soul, had gotten them seats in the front row at the very end.

“How did you manage these?” Sarah asked as she slipped in beside him.

“My extraordinary goody looks and charm,” he grinned.

George leant around him to address Sarah. “He threatened to hex people if they didn’t move,” he divulged.

Sarah beamed at her boyfriend and kissed him briefly.

Bagman’s voice suddenly boomed out across the dark water toward the stands.

“Well, all our champions are ready for the second task, which will start on my whistle. They have precisely an hour to recover what has been taken from them. On the count of three, then. One…two… _three_!”

The whistle echoed shrilly in the cold, still air; the stands erupted with cheers and applause.

Sarah watched as Harry choked the Gillyweed and dove into the water, waving his wand absently at his face to secure his glasses to his face.

The stands went quiet once the champions had disappeared.

“Well, this is going to be a boring hour,” Fred commented, frowning slightly.

“Wanna go collect bets?” George suggested. Fred immediately brightened.

“I’ll stay here, you two have fun,” Sarah said, waving the boys away.

“Sarah!”

A loud voice distracted her from gazing at the still water. Mila and Aleksander were pushing their way toward her, ignoring the grumbling students in their wake.

“Hey guys,” she said, moving over to give them more space. “How was Viktor this morning? I didn’t get to talk to him before the task.”

“Yes, ve saw that,” Mila grinned, “Viktor vas feeling okay. He has a solid plan.”

“That’s good,” Sarah smiled. “Harry didn’t figure out an option until last night.”

“Ouch,” Aleksander said, settling beside Sarah and throwing an arm around her shoulders. “He’s good now, right?”

“Yeah,” she looked around the stands a bit. “Hey, have you seen Draco or Hermione? I haven’t seen them since last night.”

Mila and Aleksander looked at each other quickly. “No,” Mila said hesitantly, “but ve heard that Fleur’s younger sister vas missing as vell. She got quite upset about it earlier. And the girl Cedric went to the ball vith as vell – I heard your small professor talking about her.”

“Oh, Merlin…” Sarah said, recalling the clue, “You don’t think…?”

But their faces answered her question.

The judges had taken _people_ down into the lake and the champions had to retrieve them.

“That’s _horrible_!” Sarah gasped. “Oh, Merlin, Narcissa is going to be _so_ angry…”

“Narcissa?” Aleksander asked, dark eyebrows scrunching.

“Draco’s mother,” Sarah said, weakly.

Aleksander appropriately cringed at that.

“The judges won’t let anything happen to them,” he assured her, patting her arm gently. “And your nurse is over there as well.”

He was right. Madam Pomfrey was anxiously hovering at the edge of the lake, a large table in front of her covered in towels and potion vials.

“I may go ask if she wants help,” Sarah said, already rising from her chair.

“Mind if ve join?” Mila asked. “Ve don’t know many people here.”

“Of course,” she replied. “Madam Pomfrey is lovely.”

When they arrived at the makeshift treatment area, Madam Pomfrey visibly relaxed.

“Sarah, thank Merlin you’re here. I was going to send someone out to find you,” the nurse said.

“How can I help?” Sarah said immediately.

“That lake is near-freezing,” Madam Pomfrey said, throwing a disapproving glance toward the judge’s table. “The champions will need Pepper-Ups and towels as soon as they exit.”

She did a double-take when she noticed Mila and Aleksander awkwardly hovering on the side.

“This is Mila and Aleksander,” Sarah said, sorting out the towels. “They’re friends of Viktor. They wanted to help.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Madam Pomfrey said, smiling slightly. “You can divvy out of the towels while Sarah and I give them the potions.”

They waited impatiently, nervously watching the still water for any disruptions. Mila had a watch and kept updating them on how much time had passed.

Just after the hour was up, ripples appeared on the lake. Gasps rose from the stands as Cedric appeared, followed closely by Cho Chang. The Hogwarts students burst into cheers.

Sarah, Madam Pomfrey, Mila and Aleksander rushed forward and Cedric helped Cho out of the water. Both of them were violently shivering.

“Drink this,” she said to Cedric, thrusting forward the vial of Pepper-Up. He didn’t even question her, just downed it in one go. Aleksander handed him a large towel and Cedric took it gratefully.

“Over here,” directed Madam Pomfrey, shooing Cedric and Cho further back from the lake’s edge. She began waving her wand in the familiar motion for Warming Charms. “Sarah, keep an eye out for the next ones.”

“H-H-Harry was d-down t-t-t-there when I g-g-got th-there,” Cedric stuttered. “Sh-should be c-c-coming up s-s-soon.”

But Harry wasn’t the next one up. Fleur suddenly appeared further down the edge, merpeople heaving her up onto the ground. She was shouting in French as she tried to go back into the water.

Sarah and Aleksander rushed over, Mila following with a potion and towel.

“Fleur!” Sarah called out, switching to French, “Calm down! You need to calm down.”

“My sister,” blubbered Fleur, “my sister is still down there.”

“Your sister will be fine,” assured Sarah. “You need to drink this.”

Aleksander had wrapped a towel around Fleur’s shoulders and held on to the other girl as she still weakly struggled toward the water. She sagged, however, once she had drunk the potion.

Sarah and Aleksander gently led her over to Madam Pomfrey.

“Eet was ze grindylows,” Fleur explained in English. “Ze got me and I could not get away.”

“Dumbledore will make sure everyone gets back safely,” Madam Pomfrey said, pushing Fleur to sit beside Cedric.

A few minutes later, a shark head burst out of the water. It shook itself and slowly morphed into Viktor’s head. He was holding Hermione above the water, her curly hair plastered to her face.

“Hermione!” Sarah called, running forward with two potions. “Viktor!”

She helped pull them out of the water and saw Mila and Viktor speaking to Viktor quietly in Bulgarian.

“Are you alright?” She asked Hermione worriedly. She pulled another towel around the girl and shot a warming charm at her.

“I’m f-f-f-fine,” Hermione shivered. Sarah led her over to Madam Pomfrey and left her in the care of the nurse.

She went back to the edge of the lake, potions in her pockets.

“Come on, come _on_ …” she muttered. She saw some of the judges whispering to each other and pointing at their watches.

Just when Sarah was starting to really freak out, two blond heads emerged from the water, spluttering and gasping.

“ _DRACO!”_ Sarah shouted, rushing into the water to help pull him to land. He was holding tightly to a slight, young girl, with hair a nearly identical white-blond to his and wide blue eyes.

“ _Gabrielle!”_ came a shout from behind them.

Fleur rushed forward, and grabbed the young girl, wrapping her in a towel.

Sarah pushed a potion vial into Draco’s and the girl’s hands and told them to drink. Fleur led her sister away, muttering lowly in French as Sarah wrapped a towel around Draco’s shaking shoulders.

“You weren’t here this morning and I was _so_ worried,” she cried, rubbing her arms up and down his. She shot Warming Charm after Warming Charm at him until his shivers had decreased a bit. “Where’s Harry?”

“He’s not back?” Draco asked urgently, turning back to the lake. “We only woke up once we were above the water.”

Sarah paled and pushed Draco toward Madam Pomfrey. “Go warm-up, I’ll help Harry when he gets here.”

The words had barely left her mouth when a great explosion of water erupted from the lake and Harry shot out of it. He landed heavily on the ground and Sarah immediately descended upon him.

“Harry, drink this, drink it!” she said urgently and she threw towel upon towel on him. His face and arms were covered in thin scratches and he was breathing heavily, coughing up large amounts of water.

“Grindylows,” he coughed, downing the vial when he could.

Sarah pointed her wand at his cuts and slowly healed them. Behind her, she could hear the judges and Bagman talking but she focused on her work. Another body dropped beside them and Draco threw his arms around Harry.

“You idiot!” he exclaimed, kissing Harry firmly. “You didn’t have to get everyone! Cedric and Viktor said you got there first!”

“Fleur didn’t turn up, I couldn’t leave her,” Harry panted, indicating Fleur’s sister, who was tightly cocooned in multiple towels.

“Harry, you prat,” said Draco, “you didn’t take that song thing seriously, did you? Dumbledore wouldn’t have let any of us drown!”

Harry suddenly looked very embarrassed.

“At least you’re all okay now,” Sarah said, throwing more Warming Charms at the boys. “But I want Madam Pomfrey to check you to be sure.”

They joined the others, where Hermione and Viktor were talking quietly to Mila and Aleksander.

“Harry!” Aleksander cried, ruffling Harry’s wet curls. “I’m glad you’re all alright, Sarah was nearly losing her mind with worry.”

“I just really want a hot bath,” Harry said, smiling weakly.

“You haff a water beetle in your hair, Herm-own-ninny,” Viktor said suddenly, brushing away the beetle.

Sarah relished the calm she was feeling now that the task was over. She kept her arm tightly entwined with Draco’s, who didn’t seem inclined to let go any time soon.

Dumbledore was crouching at the water’s edge, deep in conversation with what seemed to be the chief merperson, a particularly wild and ferocious-looking female. He was making the same sort of screechy noises that the merpeople make when they were above water; clearly Dumbledore could speak Mermish. Finally, he straightened up, turned to his fellow judges, and said, “A conference before we give the marks, I think.”

The judges went into a huddle. Madam Pomfrey came over to them and gave the champions and hostages more blankets. Fleur followed quickly with Gabrielle tucked to her side.

“Look after Gabrielle,” she told Madame Pomfrey, and then she turned to Harry. “You saved ‘er,” she said breathlessly. “Even though she was not you ‘ostage.”

“Yeah,” Harry said in embarrassment, obviously wishing that he hadn’t taken the song so literally.

Fleur bent down, kissed Harry twice on each cheek (he turned even more red), then said to Draco, “ And you too – you ‘elped – “

“Only briefly,” Draco muttered.

Fleur swooped down on him too and kissed him. Sarah laughed at the slightly uncomfortable looks on their faces.

“Well, if you didn’t know you were gay, you do now,” she guffawed.

Draco glared at her half-heartedly and grasped Harry’s hand tightly.

Just then, Ludo Bagman’s magically magnified voice boomed out beside them, making them all jump, and causing the crowd in the stands to go very quiet.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have reached our decision. Merchieftainess Murcus has told us exactly what happened at the bottom of the lake, and we have therefore decided to award marks out of fifty for each of the champions as follows…Fleur Delacour, though she demonstrated excellent use of the Bubble-Head Charm, was attacked by grindylows as she approached her goal, and failed to retrieve her hostage. We award her twenty-five points.”

Applause from the stands.

“I deserved zero,” said Fleur throatily, shaking her magnificent head.

“Cedric Diggory, who also used the Bubble-Head Charm, was first to return with his hostage, though he returned one minute outside the time limit of an hour.” Enormous cheers from the Hufflepuffs in the crowd; Sarah saw Cho Chang give Cedric a glowing look. “We therefore aware him forty-seven points.”

Sarah clapped along with the others.

“Viktor Krum used an incomplete form of Transfiguration, which was nevertheless effective and was second to return with his hostage. We aware him forty points.”

Karkaroff clapped particularly hard, looking very superior.

“Yes, Viktor!” Mila shouted, punching her friend on the arm.

“Harry Potter used Gillyweed to great effect,” Bagman continued. “He returned last, and well outside the time limit of an hour. However, the Merchieftainess informs us that Mr Potter was first to reach the hostages, and that the delay in his return was due to his determination to return all hostages to safety, not merely own.

Sarah, Hermione and Draco gave Harry half-exasperated, half-commiserating looks.

“Most of the judges,” and here, Bagman gave Karkaroff a very nasty look, “feel that this shows moral fibre and merits full marks. However…Mr Potter’s score is forty-five points.”

“Second place!” Sarah cried, wrapping Harry in a tight hug. When she released him, she burst into controllable laughter. “For _moral fibre_!”

Draco beamed at his boyfriend and drew him in for a long kiss. Harry was surprised but happy, smiling brightly when Draco released him.

“The third and final task will take place at dusk on the twenty-fourth of June,” continued Bagman. “The champions will be notified of what is coming precisely one month beforehand. Thank you all for your support of the champions.”

The stands began to empty as Madam Pomfrey and Sarah herded the champions and hostages back to the castle to get into dry clothes.

Sarah finally breathed a sigh of relief. They didn’t have to worry until June the twenty-fourth…plenty of time to prepare Harry for whatever awaited him in the last task…


	12. Chapter Twelve

The next few months passed quickly. Hermione, Draco and Sarah had begun studying for their exams, which would take place a week before the final task, to allow them more time to help Harry prepare. Remus and Sirius kept sending letters full of advice for Harry and warnings to stay out of trouble. People had warmed up to the idea of Harry being a champion and now no longer hissed at him in the hallways – only some nasty Slytherins and Hufflepuffs continued to flash the POTTER STINKS badges.

One problem that arose, however, was that Rita Skeeter had published a horrid article depicting Hermione as playing with Viktor and Harry’s affections. It included the picture of Harry and Hermione taken before the first task and a quote from Viktor from the end of the second task. Both Viktor and Hermione had no idea how Rita had overheard their private conversation and Hermione had been on a warpath ever since, trying to find out if Rita was doing something illegal.

Finally, the last week of May arrived. Sarah and Draco spent the day of the twenty-seventh sitting by the lake in silence so that Sarah could celebrate her mother’s birthday in peace.

It was here that Ron found the pair.

“Um, could I talk to you both…please…?” he asked uncertainly.

Sarah looked to Draco, whose grey eyes had gone steely and unreadable.

“Five minutes,” Sarah said as she turned back to Ron. “We’ll listen to what you have to say but we can’t promise anything.”

Ron sagged slightly in relief. “I just wanted you both to know that I’m really, _really_ sorry for being such a git at the Ball and afterwards. I didn’t mean what I said about Draco – I don’t think you’re like your family at all. I was just so _angry_ and – and jealous of Hermione and Krum that I let my emotions get the better of me,” he paused and looked to the ground, “I know it’s too much to ask you to forgive me but – but could we at least try again, please? I miss having my friends around…”

Sarah thought about it for a long while. This wasn’t the first time that Ron had been stupid and ended up hurting those around him. Was it worth forgiving him when there was a chance of him doing it again?

Draco spoke suddenly, interrupting her thoughts.

“Have you spoken to Harry and Hermione?” he asked.

Ron nodded quickly. “I spoke to them before I came here. That’s how I knew where you were – Harry told me.”

Draco pondered this for a moment and then looked up, grey eyes catching blue.

“You’re right that it’s too much to ask for us to forgive you – you said some horrible things about me that I didn’t deserve…” Ron’s face fell but Draco continued before the other boy could say anything, “But…I know Harry’s been really cut up about it the last few months. So, for _his_ sake, I’ll give you another chance. But this is your last one – one more time screwing us over and it’s done.”

Ron looked up in disbelief, smiling at Draco. His smile became more subdued as he looked at Sarah’s serious expression. “Sarah…?” he said tentatively.

“Draco’s right, this was your last chance. Do it again, and I swear you won’t have anyone left to apologise to,” she stared at him severely. “If you hurt Harry or say anything like what you did about Draco or me or Hermione _ever_ again…”

Ron frantically nodded.

“I won’t, I promise,” he rushed. “This year’s really taught me what’s most important and petty jealously isn’t it. I’ll be better, I will.”

“Try not to make promises you might not be able to keep,” warned Draco.

Ron nodded again. “So…are we okay?”

Sarah smiled slightly. “We’re okay.”

“Just, we’re going to have to ask you to leave,” Draco added, “We need this time to ourselves.”

“Of course,” Ron agreed. He hesitated for a moment before adding, “I’ll see you in my common room tonight?”

Draco nodded and sent a tight smile in the redhead’s direction. Sarah turned back to face the lake as Ron’s footsteps retreated.

“Well,” Draco said quietly once silence fell over them again, “At least that’s over now.”

Sarah smirked and rested her head on Draco’s shoulder.

“Now all we have to do is make sure Harry survives the next task.

***

Sarah and Draco did join Harry, Ron and Hermione in the Gryffindor common room that evening. The conversation started off slightly stilted but eventually fell back into a familiar back and forth as the awkwardness faded away. Harry left just before nine o’clock to go get his instructions for the next task. This left the four of them to work on their assignments and study plans. Hermione was quick to write up one for Ron, who grumbled but accepted without any opposition.

Over an hour had passed before Draco suddenly said, “Harry’s been gone a while, do you think everything is okay?”

Just then, the portrait hole flung open and Harry appeared, Hagrid’s silhouette clear behind him.

“Harry! Is everything all right?” Draco said anxiously, standing up to grab the other boy.

Harry was pale and shaking, covered in sweat and breathing heavily.

“What on earth happened?” Sarah said, pulling leaves out of his dark curls.

“We went to the Quidditch Pitch to get our instructions for the next task – It’s going to be a maze – and then Viktor wanted to talk to me so we stayed back but then Mr Crouch suddenly appeared and he was raving mad, talking about Dumbledore and his son and Bertha Jorkins – “ Harry’s eyes were wild as he gasped out each word. “And so I ran to get Dumbledore and by the time we got back, Viktor had been stunned and Crouch was missing!”

“W-What?” Draco said in shock. “Mr Crouch _stunned_ Viktor and then disappeared?”

“What if someone else attacked them both when Viktor wasn’t looking?” suggested Hermione.

Harry shrugged. “I don’t think anyone else was there but Crouch seemed really weak – I don’t reckon he was up to stunning anyone, let alone Disapparating or anything.”

“You _can’t_ Disapparate on the Hogwarts grounds, haven’t I told you enough times?” said Hermione.

“But Harry, you’re okay right?” Sarah checked, waving her wand over him to see if he had any injuries.

“I’m fine,” he said, finally getting his breathing under control. “Just freaked out a bit. Karkaroff was _so_ mad.”

“What did Dumbledore do?” Draco asked.

“He sent for some teachers and then got Hagrid to bring me back here,” Harry replied, “Madam Pomfrey should be looking after Viktor now to make sure he’s okay.”

Harry hesitated for a long moment, glancing around the room to make sure no one could eavesdrop on them.

“Mr Crouch also mentioned Voldemort,” he whispered. Ron flinched and Hermione gasped. Draco and Sarah paled slightly. “He said that he’s getting stronger. Crouch was sanest when he was trying to talk about Voldemort.”

“We’ll send a letter to Remus and Sirius tomorrow,” Sarah said, pulling a piece of parchment toward her. “They should definitely know about this.”

With Harry’s help, she wrote out descriptions of the events and Mr Crouch’s words. She asked them for any advice on what to do or if there was anything they should know about Crouch or Bertha Jorkins. When the letter was completed, she slipped it securely into her bag.

“We should head up to bed,” she suggested. “We’ll post this first thing tomorrow.”

They crept out of their dormitories very early the next day, Sarah and Draco having stayed up at Gryffindor tower. The Owlery perches were half-empty; every now and then, another owl would swoop in through one of the windows, returning from its night’s hunting with a mouse in its beak.

Harry called down Hedwig and Sarah tied the letter to her leg. With an affectionate nip to both their ears, the snowy owl took flight, her gorgeous plumage shining brightly in the morning night.

“We need to see Professor Moody,” said Hermione. “We need to find out if he found Mr Crouch.”

“If he had the Marauder’s Map on him, it would’ve been easy,” said Harry.

“Unless Crouch was already outside the grounds,” said Draco, “because it only shows up to the boundaries, doesn’t – “

“Shhh!” said Sarah suddenly.

Somebody was climbing the steps up to the Owlery. Sarah could hear two voices arguing, coming closer and closer.

“ – that’s blackmail, that is, we could get into a lot of trouble for that – “

“ – we’ve tried being polite; it’s time to play dirty, like him. He wouldn’t like the Minister of Magic knowing what he did – “

“I’m telling you, if you put that in writing, it’s blackmail!”

“Yeah, and you won’t be complaining if we get a nice fat payoff, will you?”

The Owlery door banged open. Fred and George came over the threshold, then froze at the sight of Sarah, Draco, Harry, Ron and Hermione.

“What’re you doing here?” Ron, Sarah and Fred said at the same time.

“Sending a letter,” said Harry, Draco and George in unison.

“What, at this time?” said Hermione and Fred.

Fred grinned.

“Fine – we won’t ask you what you’re doing if you don’t ask us,” he said.

“Even me?” Sarah said, stepping closer and batting her eyelashes. “You wouldn’t keep something from your _girlfriend_ would you?”

“Only if you were keeping something from your _boyfriend_ ,” Fred replied with a wink.

He was holding a sealed envelope in his hands. Sarah glanced at it but Fred, whether accidentally or on purpose, shifted his hand so that the name on it was covered.

“Well, don’t let us hold you up,” Fred said, making a mock bow and point at the door.

Ron didn’t move. “Who’re you blackmailing?” he said.

The grin vanished from Fred’s face. Sarah saw George half glance at Fred, before smiling at Ron.

“Don’t be stupid, I was only joking,” he said easily.

“Didn’t sound like that,” said Ron.

Fred and George looked at each other. Then Fred said abruptly, “I’ve told you before, Ron, keep your nose out if you like it the shape it is. Can’t see why you would, but – “

“It’s my business if you’re blackmailing someone,” said Ron. “George’s right, you could end up in serious trouble for that.”

“Told you, I was joking,” said George. He walked over to Fred, pulled the letter out of his hands, and began attaching it to the leg of the nearest barn owl. “You’re starting to sound a bit like our dear older brother, you are, Ron. Carry on like this and you’ll be made a prefect.”

“No, I won’t!” said Ron hotly.

George carried the barn owl over to the window and it took off. George turned around and grinned at Ron.

“Well, stop telling people what to do then. See you later.

He and Fred went to leave the Owlery but Sarah put a hand on each of their chests.

“I don’t think so,” she said, raising an eyebrow at them. She turned to the others. “I’ll meet you guys at breakfast.”

The others nodded and left the Owlery, Ron slightly reluctantly. Sarah then turned to the twins, who immediately looked guilty.

“Want to tell me why you’re blackmailing a Ministry worker?” she said.

They both looked extremely surprised.

“How – how - ?” Fred gaped.

Sarah shrugged, smirking slightly. “I have my ways. Want to tell me what’s going on?”

Fred deflated slightly. “Bagman paid our bet from the World Cup in Leprechaun gold,” he confessed.

“The entire lot vanished within the hour,” said George.

“We’ve been trying to talk to him all year but he keeps avoiding us,” explained Fred.

“Apparently, he’s been having some issues with the goblins as well,” added George.

“So, we thought we would just say that if the Minister knew what he was doing, he wouldn’t be very happy – “

“ – but we also know we don’t have any solid proof and Bagman might call us on our bluff.”

Sarah stared at them, thinking quickly.

“Do you still have the slip he gave you with the copy of your bet?” she asked.

George nodded.

“Well, why don’t you extract the memories as well?” she suggested. “That way, Bagman can never argue that he didn’t bet with you _and_ you can prove that the gold disappeared.”

“That could work…” said George slowly. “But what do we do about Bagman?”

“Well, you might scare him with your letter,” Sarah said. “It means he’ll be more likely to screw up somewhere.” She thought for another moment. “You said that he was having trouble with the goblins, right?” At Fred’s nod, she continued, “Why don’t you get in contact with them and see if they have had any shoddy deals with Bagman?”

“Sarah, that’s genius!” Fred said, picking her up and spinning her around slightly.

“It’s not,” she disagreed, “You still need to get Bagman to actually pay you. I’m pretty sure someone mentioned to me that he had a habit of gambling with Leprechaun gold but I can’t remember who – I could even get in contact with him?” she offered. “Because of the Malfoy’s Ministry functions, he knows who I am.”

“We don’t want you involved,” George said, shaking his head. “It’s better if we do it ourselves.”

“Okay,” Sarah acquiesced. “But let me know.”

Fred nodded and pulled her chin up for a kiss. Sarah smiled into it until George stepped between them and pushed them apart.

“Chaperone says no!” he grinned. “Run along now, little snake, we have things to plan.”

“Well, that sounds worrying,” Sarah said. She gave Fred one more kiss, punched George on the arm, and then left the Owlery.

***

The fourth-year exams had finally arrived. Sarah and Draco’s birthdays happened the week before them and the Gryffindors and Slytherins threw a surprise party on the grounds for them. After that, everyone except Harry, Sarah and Draco spent nearly all their free time in the library, studying. The final exam would be held the morning of the twenty-fourth, with the final task that evening.

Sarah and Draco had elected to help Harry prepare for the third task. Remus and Sirius had sent them a list of useful spells and hexes that Harry should learn, so every lunch period, the three of them practiced in the Transfiguration classroom, occasionally joined by Hermione and Ron.

They practiced Stunning, Disarming, Four-Point Spell (a spell that pointed due north), Shield Charms, and a variety of other ones. At the end of most days, Sarah and Draco were bruised and nursing various stings or cuts. Madam Pomfrey would raise her eyebrows whenever Sarah grabbed healing supplies from the Infirmary but never asked any questions. The most important thing was that Harry was slowly and surely getting more confident as each day passed.

Remus and Sirius were sending daily owls now. They reminded Sarah in every letter that whatever might be going on outside the walls of Hogwarts was not Sarah, Harry, or Draco’s responsibility, now was it within their power to influence it. Harry was still worried about Voldemort growing stronger: his scar was prickling more often and he had been having weird dreams. Sarah and Draco tried to take his mind off it as much as possible but they both knew that things would be changing soon.

Breakfast was a very noisy affair at the Gryffindor table on the morning of the third task. The post owls appeared, bringing Harry a good-luck card from Sirius and Remus. It was only a piece of parchment, folded over and bearing a buddy paw print on its front, but Harry seemed to appreciate it all the same. A screech owl delivered the _Daily Prophet_ to Sarah, who unfolded the paper, glanced at the front page, and spat out a mouthful of tea all over it.

“What?” said Harry, Ron and Draco together, staring at her.

Hermione had just received her own copy and her brown eyes widened.

“Nothing,” said Sarah quickly, shoving her paper down under the table.

Hermione went to hide hers but Ron grabbed it. He stared at the headline and said, “No way. Not today. That old _cow_.”

“What?” said Harry. “Rita Skeeter again?”

Draco managed to wrestle Sarah’s copy out of her hands and he read it quickly; his silver eyes turned hard like steel and his jaw tightened. He very calmly began shredding the paper to pieces.

“No,” said Ron, answering Harry’s question. And just like Hermione, he attempted to push the paper out of sight.

“It’s about me, isn’t it?” said Harry.

“No,” said Ron, in an entirely unconvincing manner.

Harry turned to Sarah and Draco. “Sarah? Draco? You’ll tell me, right?” he said, his green eyes sparkling in the morning light.

Sarah knew that she would barely be able to say no to him, but Draco was hopeless.

“Rita Skeeter was just being her usual bitchy self again,” Draco said, pointing his wand at the pieces of paper to light them on fire. “Don’t worry about it today.”

But before Harry could demand to see the paper, Vincent Crabbe shouted across the Great Hall from the Slytherin table.

“Hey, Potter! _Potter!_ How’s your head? You feeling all right? Sure you’re not going to go berserk on us?”

Crabbe was holding a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ too. Slytherins up and down the table were sniggering, twisting in their seats to see Harry’s reactions. Most of them looked away when they caught sight of Sarah and Draco’s glares.

“Let me see it,” Harry said to Ron. “Give it here.”

Very reluctantly, Ron handed over the newspaper. The headline shined in big, black block letters: **HARRY POTTER “DISTURBED AND DANGEROUS”.**

Sarah cringed as Harry read through the horrid article, which included reference to Harry’s scar hurting during his last Divination lesson, one where he had had a nightmare and had left the classroom. It also quoted Crabbe talking about Harry’s ability to speak Parseltongue. Overall, it was an attempt to discredit him and make him seem crazy and unpredictable.

“Gone off me a bit, hasn’t she?” said Harry lightly, folding up the paper.

“You’re not angry?” Draco asked incredulously.

“Believe it or not, I have bigger things to worry about today,” Harry replied wryly.

“How did she know your scar hurt in Divination?” Ron said. “There’s no way she was there, there’s no way she could’ve heard – “

“The window was open,” said Harry. “I opened it to breathe.”

“You were at the top of the North Tower!” Hermione said. “Your voice couldn’t have carried all the way down to the grounds!”

“Well, you’re the one who’s supposed to be researching magical methods of bugging!” said Harry. “You tell me how she did it!”

“I’ve been trying!” said Hermione. “But I…but…”

An odd, dreamy expression suddenly came over Hermione’s face. She slowly raised a hand and ran her fingers through her hair.

“Are you all right?” said Sarah, frowning at her.

“Yes,” said Hermione breathlessly. She ran her fingers through her hair again and then held her hand up to her mouth, as though speaking into an invisible object. Sarah, Draco, Harry and Ron stared at each other.

“I’ve had an idea,” Hermione said, gazing into space. “I think I know…because then no one would be able to see…even Moody…and she’d have been able to get onto the window ledge…but she’s not allowed…she’s _definitely_ not allowed…I think we’ve got her! Just give me two seconds in the library – just to make sure!”

With that, Hermione seized her school bag and dashed out of the Great Hall.

“Oi!” Ron called after her. “We’ve got our History of Magic exam in ten minutes! Blimey,” he said, turning back to Harry, Sarah and Draco, “she must really hate that Skeeter woman to risk missing the start of an exam. What’re going to do in Binns’ class – read again?”

“S’pose so,” Harry said to Ron; but just then, Professor McGonagall came walking alongside the Gryffindor table toward them.

“Potter, the champions are congregating in the chamber off the Hall after breakfast,” she said.

“But the task’s not till tonight!” said Harry, accidentally spilling scrambled eggs down his front. Sarah waved her wand and cleaned him up quickly, rolling her eyes.

“I’m aware of that, Potter,” Professor McGonagall said. “The champions’ families are invited to watch the final task, you know. This is simply a chance for you to greet them.”

She moved away. Harry gaped after her.

“She doesn’t expect the Dursleys to turn up, does she?” he asked Sarah blankly.

“Definitely not,” she replied frowning. “But we’ve got to hurry, we’re going to be late for Binns’. We’ll see you later.”

She kissed him on his cheek and stood, Ron and Draco following as well after Draco kissed Harry goodbye.

Their exam went extremely quickly, with Sarah rushing through it, her mind on Harry and the third task. Hermione had entered a few minutes before the exam began, a smug smile on her face.

Once they were finished, they went to the Great Hall for lunch, where a surprise greeted them.

“Mum – Bill!” said Ron, looking stunned as they joined the Gryffindor table. “What’re you doing here?”

“Come to watch Harry in the last task!” said Mrs Weasley. “He’s just stepped out with – “

“Remus!” Sarah called, jumping up and beaming at the man who had just walked into the Hall. She raced over and hugged him, jumping back when she felt something nudge her leg. Sirius, in his dog form, smiled up at her, tongue lolling from his mouth. “And you brought Snuffles!”

Over the holidays, Sarah and Remus had taken to calling Sirius ‘Snuffles’ when in public, much to Sirius’ chagrin.

Harry appeared next to Remus and winked at Sarah.

“We’ve been walking around the grounds and castle all day,” he explained. “I didn’t think anyone was going to come – there was no way it was the Dursleys.”

Sirius let out a low growl and Harry reached down to pat between his ears.

“Come sit with us,” Sarah said, dragging Remus over to where Draco and the others were. Fred, George and Ginny soon joined them and it felt like Sarah was back at the Burrow during summer – only this time, they had visitors from other tables complimenting ‘Snuffles’ or saying hi to Remus.

“Man, I forgot you went to live with Professor Lupin,” Seamus said to Sarah after he had greeted the old professor. “Did he make you do your homework over the holidays.”

“No,” Sarah laughed, “but Draco did.”

“Oi! I heard that, you harpy!” Draco exclaimed from where he was sitting next to Harry, the pair whispering quietly to Sirius.

“Draco, be nice to Sarah,” Remus said mildly, not looking up from his conversation with Bill. Draco blushed as Sarah smiled smugly at him.

They had to leave Remus, Sirius, Mrs Weasley, Bill and Harry after lunch to go to their final exams. They returned to the Great Hall for the evening feast. Viktor beckoned Sarah and Draco over and introduced them to his parents: a dark-haired woman and a towering man with Viktor’s hooked nose. Mila and Aleksander were happily conversing with them and the older couple warmed quickly to Sarah and Draco when they realised they could speak Bulgarian.

After they went back to the Gryffindor table, Fleur came over to wish Harry luck. She eyed Bill appreciatively, something that many of the girls (and some boys) around the Hall had been doing. She and Bill soon fell into a discussion about Gringotts and finance, ignoring Sarah’s teasing wink at Bill. Ludo Bagman and Cornelius Fudge had joined the staff table now. Both had made a point to visit Harry and exchange a few words with him, as well as Sarah and Draco. Bagman looked quite cheerful, but Cornelius Fudge, looked stern and was not talking. Madame Maxime was concentrating on her plate, and Sarah thought her eyes looked red. Hagrid kept glancing along the table at her.

There were more courses than usual, but Sarah wasn’t feeling as hungry as usual. Draco, Ginny and the Weasley boys were digging into the meal as though they would never eat again. Harry, however, was beginning to look quite queasy and barely touched his plate.

“Harry, you’ll do amazing,” Sarah whispered to him, switching seats with Draco. She placed her hand over Harry’s; he was shaking slightly. “Just remember what we practiced. The teachers will all be on standby to get you out of a sticky situation. Just keep your eyes open and use your common sense.”

He smiled weakly at her and took another meagre bite of his food. Sirius looked up at them with his large, dark eyes and Sarah sighed, placing a gently hand on his soft head.

“He’ll be okay,” she murmured, not sure who she was trying to convince.

As the enchanted ceiling overhead began to fade from blue to a dusky purple, Dumbledore rose to his feet at the staff table and silence fell.

“Ladies and gentlemen, in five minutes’ time, I will be asking you to make your way down to the Quidditch field for the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament. Will the champions please follow Mr Bagman down to the stadium now.”

Sarah wrapped Harry in a tight hug as he stood up from the table. Draco kissed him quickly before he left and Remus whispered a few comforting words. The Gryffindors all along the table were applauding Harry as he disappeared through the doors with Cedric, Fleur and Viktor.

Five minutes later, the rest of the crowd left the Great Hall and walked down the lawn to the Quidditch Pitch, which was now completely unrecognisable. A twenty-foot hedge ran all the way around the edge of it. there was a gap right in front of the stands: the entrance to the vast maze. The passage beyond it looked dark and creepy.

Sarah, Draco, Remus, Sirius, Hermione and the Weasleys managed to get seats at the end of the closest stands, directly in front of the entrance. Harry and the other champions were standing off to the side, their respective Heads of schools beside them.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament is about to begin! Let me remind you how the points currently stand! Tied in first place, with eighty-five points each – Mr Cedric Diggory and Mr Harry Potter, both of Hogwarts School!” Ludo Bagman’s magically amplified voice shouted. The cheers and applause sent birds from the Forbidden Forest fluttering into the darkening sky. “In second place, with eighty points – Mr Viktor Krum, of Durmstrang Institute!” More applause. “And in third place – Miss Fleur Delacour, of Beauxbatons Academy!”

Harry turned toward them and caught Sarah’s eye. He waved and she waved back, giving him a thumbs up and wide smile.

“So…on my whistle, Harry and Cedric!” said Bagman. “Three – two – one – “

He gave a short blast on his whistle, and Harry and Cedric hurried forward into the maze, disappearing from view.

“Viktor – you next!” Another whistle blast followed Bagman’s words.

A third and final one left the stands buzzing in subdued silence – the final task had begun.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

The crowd was restless. There hadn’t been any more activity from inside the maze since Viktor was recovered half an hour ago. A group of teachers surrounded Dumbledore, looking for answers while the old man stared off into the distance. Flitwick’s tiny body was jumping up and down in an attempt to get the Headmaster’s attention as Professor Sprout gestured angrily towards the designated ‘medic tent’.

Sarah could just see Madam Pomfrey flitting back and forth behind the entrance flaps as the nurse tended to Fleur and Krum. She was wondering whether she would get in trouble if she tried to go talk to one of them to find out what had happened with Harry, when Professor Moody appeared at the end of her row.

“Miss Deaumont. I need you to come with me please,” he said gruffly. Sarah squeezed past Draco and waved off Remus when he rose to follow her, making her way towards the Defense Professor.

“Where are we going, Professor?” Sarah asked. Professor Moody didn’t reply and just continued to lead Sarah back toward the school. 

She followed the Professor in silence. The towering walls of the castle cast sinister shadows across the darkening grounds, leaving Sarah feeling jittery and nervous.

They turned the last corner and saw the silhouette of a tall man leaning against the massive double oak doors of the Entrance Hall. Sarah’s heart skipped a beat as the man turned into the light and made direct eye contact with Sarah.

“Thank you, Alastor, you may go,” Antonius Deaumont dismissed Professor Moody with the polite indifference made possible only by centuries of entitled pureblood breeding.

Professor Moody was unaffected. He nodded and stomped away, his mismatched steps thumping silently on the dry grass. Her father waited until Professor Moody was out of sight then stepped forward, pinning Sarah with a harsh glare.

“Come on. We’re leaving,” He grabbed her arm and roughly began dragging Sarah towards the gates. She tried to pull out of his grasp but he wouldn’t let her go, instead tightening his grip until pain shot up her arm.

“Let go of me! I don’t want to go _anywhere_ with you!” shouted Sarah. She glanced behind her, hoping that Professor Moody or anyone had heard her shout and was coming back for her – or maybe Draco decided to follow her anyway and would help her escape.

No one was there. She was on her own.

Dread curled up in her stomach as her father pulled her through the gates and passed the anti-apparition wards. It quickly turned to nausea as he spun on the spot and they disapparated with a crack. Sarah hated Apparation. It felt as if they were squeezing through a small tube in a dizzying whirlwind. Now, Apparation was bad enough when it was voluntarily done – but when one party didn’t want to comply, it becomes ten times worse, like a blender set on high with Peeves shouting in your ears.

Honestly, despite where they landed, Sarah was extremely glad to be back on solid ground. As soon as her world stopped spinning and she could open her eyes without the risk of her lunch coming back up to say hello, she wondered why her life couldn’t just be normal for once.

She was kneeling in the dirt of a large graveyard. Tombstones rose as far as she could see, with the largest a few metres before her, shrouded in deep shadow. Firelight flickered in her peripheral but she couldn’t see the source of the flames. She could feel her father standing behind her, one hand gripping her hair painfully and pulling her head upright. Spread out around them were over a dozen figures cloaked in black standing in a large semi-circle.

Directly in front of her, no more than ten paces away was a skeletal man. His face was deathly pale, with slits instead of a distinct nose and terrifying eyes which gleamed scarlet in the firelight. He didn’t have normal pupils – instead, they were split vertically like a snake’s. Sarah froze in fear as he turned his gaze towards her. She knew then, without a doubt, that this was Voldemort – he had somehow managed to create a body for himself.

The most terrifying sight though wasn’t Voldemort or his followers. It was the body, strewn spread-eagle on the ground to her left. His chocolate hair was spread across his forehead and his dark eyes stared unseeingly into the sky. Cedric. A sob built up in Sarah’s chest but was trapped behind the massive lump of terror hiding in her throat.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t young Miss Deaumont,” Voldemort’s voice sounded like a snake hissing at prey. If Sarah wasn’t held in place by her father, she would’ve absolutely run screaming for the hills – right after punching that monstrosity in his poor excuse for a face. Voldemort stalked closer, his dark robes swaying over pale bare feet. “Your father has told me much about your… _exploits_. Such company you choose to keep: mudbloods, blood-traitors, werewolves. Why, if your father hadn’t claimed you as his, I never would have thought that Deaumont blood ran through your veins. It seems that the once honourable family has fallen – such a shame, you would have made a fine addition to my followers.”

Sarah flinched back as Voldemort ran a thin finger down the side of her face, disgust coursing through her like a river.

“Get your hands off me,” she snapped, wrenching her head away as much as she could.

“Such attitude,” Voldemort snarled, “I think I know how we can remedy that.” Voldemort smiled cruelly down at her and backed away.

The Death Eaters crowed with laughter around her, anticipation racing through the group as their master extended his hand towards Sarah’s father.

“Antonius. Why don’t you do the honours this evening?” Voldemort’s eyes shone brightly in the firelight – cruel amusement glimmering in the slit pupils.

Sarah’s father released her hair, shoving her forward roughly and causing her to fall face first in the coarse dirt. She spun around, backing away from him as he advanced slowly, turning up the sleeves of his robes to make movement easier. The Dark Mark glinted ink-black against the paleness of his left forearm.

“You have disappointed me, daughter. Time and time again, you were expected to uphold our family’s values and yet you threw them to ground like dirt. You befriended blood-traitors, mudbloods! Stained our reputation – and for what? Your own selfish excuses?” He continued to stalk towards her and terror flooded Sarah’s body. Some part of her instinctually knew that she wasn’t to make it out of this situation – she would need a miracle to save her from her father’s wrath.

“CRUCIO!”

Nothing could have prepared her for the pain of that spell. It felt as if ten-thousand knives were piercing her skin while acid flowed through her body. Every bone felt as if it were being repeatedly broken and repaired, only to be broken again. She writhed in pain, screams tearing through her throat without her control. Tears flowed down her face as she curled into a ball, trying to hide from her father, from Voldemort, from the pain that was ripping her nerves and muscles apart.

“LEAVE HER ALONE!” A voice cut through the waves of excruciating pain, causing it to suddenly disappear. She whimpered quietly in relief and turned towards where the shout had come from.

She hadn’t noticed at first but somebody was tied to the massive gravestone in front of her. Black hair, weary, pain-filled green eyes – Harry was chained to the stone. A large painful-looking cut surrounded by dried blood adorned his forearm and Sarah’s own arm twinged in sympathy.

She raised her head as much as she could with tremors of pain still wracking through her body. The Death Eaters were ignoring her prone form and instead were fixated on Harry’s loan figure. Voldemort was still facing her and she watched as his expression flitted from anger to annoyance to terrifying calm.

Voldemort stalked closer to Harry and surveyed the teenager. “After everything I’ve already said, you still dare to disrespect me?” Cold shivers ran up and down Sarah’s spine but she didn’t know if they were from fear or pain.

“Leave her alone and fight me yourself, _coward_ ,” Harry snarled, pulling against the binds keeping him restrained.

“Harry…no…don’t…” Sarah tried to whisper but her voice refused to work. She slumped back to the ground and tried to pull her way towards Cedric. She made it a few inches before Voldemort’s words halted her in her path.

“Very well, Harry Potter. If you want to duel me, then let us duel.” Voldemort waved his wand, a thin ivory stick which looked eerily similar to a bone, and the ropes around Harry broke away. He fell to the ground with a pained grunt, his left ankle collapsing under his weight. He raised his eyes to Sarah’s quickly – determination sparkling in them – before rising to meet Voldemort head-on.

The Death Eaters swarmed forward, stepping over Sarah or kicking her as they passed. Her father sneered down at her one last time before taking his rightful place amongst the followers.

Sarah watched in horror as Wormtail, who had been cowering behind an outer tombstone, approached Harry and threw his wand at him. One of Wormtail’s hands glinted silver in the firelight. Sarah did _not_ want to know what had happened to leave his hand like that.

Voldemort and Harry stood ten paces apart, hatred burning behind their eyes as they stared each other down.

“You have been taught how to duel, Harry Potter?” said Voldemort softly, his red eyes glinting through the darkness. Sarah thought back to the disaster of the duelling club two years ago and couldn’t help thinking that Harry may have been slightly doomed – all he had learnt was the Disarming spell.

“We bow to each other, Harry,” said Voldemort, bending a little, but keeping his snakelike face upturned to Harry. “Come, the niceties must be observed…Dumbledore would like you to show manners…Bow to death, Harry…”

The Death Eaters were laughing again. Voldemort’s lipless mouth was smiling. Harry did not bow. Sarah could tell by his expression that he was not going to let Voldemort play with him before the duel.

“I said, _bow_ ,” Voldemort said, raising his wand. Sarah watched, transfixed, as Harry’s spine curved as though a huge, invisible hand were bending him ruthlessly forward.

“Very good,” said Voldemort softly. He raised he wand and Harry’s back straightened. “And now you face me, like a man…straight-backed and proud, the way your father died…

And now – we duel.”

Voldemort raised his wand, and before Harry could do anything to defend himself before he could even move, he was hit by the Cruciatus Curse. Sarah felt tears stream down her cheeks as she watched Harry scream. She bit down on her tongue to stop herself from crying out and instead pulled herself forward, inching towards Cedric’s prone body.

When the spell stopped, she saw Harry roll over and scramble to his feet; he was shaking uncontrollably. He staggered sideways into the wall of watching Death Eaters, and they pushed him away, back toward Voldemort.

“A little break,” said Voldemort, the slit-like nostrils dilating with excitement, “a little pause…That hurt, didn’t it, Harry? You don’t want me to do that again, do you?”

Harry didn’t reply. He glanced towards Sarah and she shook her head at him: _don’t do anything stupid. Survive._

“I asked you whether you want me to do that again,” said Voldemort softly. “Answer me! _Imperio!_ ”

Sarah’s heart stopped briefly as she saw Harry’s eyes glaze over. She sent out a prayer to any deity that may exist that Harry would be strong enough to fight the curse. She couldn’t lose him.

“I WON’T!”

The words burst from Harry’s mouth and echoed through the graveyard. His green eyes cleared and he glared defiantly at Voldemort.

“You won’t?” said Voldemort quietly. The Death Eaters had stopped laughing but still, none of them were paying any attention to Sarah. They didn’t notice when she reached Cedric’s body and gripped him close to her, grabbing his wand from where it lay next to him and stashing it in his robes.

“You won’t say no? Harry, obedience is a virtue I need to teach you before you die…Perhaps another little dose of pain?”

Voldemort raised his wand, and Sarah thanked the gods for Harry’s years of Quidditch training, as he flung himself sideways onto the ground; rolling behind the marble headstone he had been strapped to. The resounding crack as the curse hit the stone echoed throughout the graveyard.

“We are not playing hide-and-seek, Harry,” said Voldemort’s soft, cold voice. “You cannot hide from me. Does this mean you are tired of our duel? Does this mean that you would prefer me to finish it now, Harry? Come out, Harry…come out and play, then…it will be quick…it might even be painless…I would not know…I have never died…If you don’t come out then I might just need to play with your friend for a while…Do you think she would survive another dose of pain?”

Before Voldemort could stick his snakelike face around the headstone, Harry threw himself around the headstone, facing Voldemort.

Voldemort was ready. As Harry shouted, “ _Expelliarmus_!” Voldemort cried, “ _Avada Kedava_!”

Sarah watched in shock as a jet of green light issued from Voldemort’s wand just as a jet of red light blasted from Harry’s. They met in midair and Sarah saw both wands begin vibrating as though an electric charge were surging through them. A narrow beam of light connected the two wands, neither red nor green, but bright, deep gold.

Harry and Voldemort were both suddenly lifted off their feet, rising into the air, their wands still connected by that thread of shimmering light. Sarah thought she might have been dreaming but her body still hurt too much from the effects of the Cruciatus Curse for that to be possible. The pair glided away from the tombstone and came to rest on a clear patch outside of the circle of Death Eaters not too far away from where Sarah lay holding Cedric. The Death Eaters were shouting, asking Voldemort for instructions; trying to reform in a circle around Harry and Voldemort.

The golden thread connecting Harry and Voldemort splintered; though the wands remained connected, a thousand more beams arced high over Harry and Voldemort, crisscrossing all around them, until they were enclosed in a golden, dome-shaped web, cage of lights, beyond which the Death Eaters circled like jackals.

“Do nothing!” Voldemort shrieked to the Death Eaters, and Sarah saw his red eyes wide with astonishment at what was happening, saw him fighting to break the thread of light still connecting his wand with Harry’s. “Do nothing unless I command you!”

And then an unearthly and beautiful sound filled the air…It seemed to be coming from every thread of the light-spun web vibrating around Harry and Voldemort. Sarah saw Harry’s eyes widen in recognition.

It was a sound of hope to Sarah…the most beautiful and welcome thing she had ever heard in her life. Sarah watched as Harry tensed suddenly, tilting his head to one side as if someone were whispering in his ear.

Large beads of light had appeared on the beam connecting Harry and Voldemort’s wands. They slowly slid up and down the thread, moving closer towards Harry’s end. Just when Sarah thought that the beads would connect with Harry’s wand tip, they changed direction, quivering back the way they came, closer and closer to Voldemort’s wand…until they trembled for a moment…and connected.

At once, Voldemort’s wand began to emit echoing screams of pain…then a dense, smoky hand flew out of the tip of the wand and vanished. Sarah was confused until something much larger began to blossom from the wand-tip, a great, greyish something, that looked as though it were made of the solidest, densest smoke…It was a head, then a chest and arms…the torso of Cedric Diggory.

Sarah saw the shade of Cedric move close to Harry and mutter something unheard.

More screams of pain emitted from the wand and one by one, grey figures rose out from Voldemort’s wand. Sarah saw an old man and a young woman join Cedric, whispering to Harry and then moving to circle around the pair.

Nothing could have prepared Sarah for what happened next. The smoky shadow of a woman with long dark hair fell to the ground, straightened up and looked, not toward Harry, but directly through the web of light toward Sarah.

“Mother,” Sarah sobbed quietly. The ghost figure looked exactly as Sarah remembered her mother in life: hair the same colour as hers, large dark eyes, elegant cheekbones, a smile that always seemed to be slightly tilted as if she were about to tell a joke. Somehow, Sarah heard what she said despite the distance between them and the noise of the Death Eaters.

“Stay strong, my darling. I am so proud of you.” The words echoed in Sarah’s head as she watched her mother turn towards Harry. Harry’s eyes snapped to Sarah’s and she couldn’t hold back the tears, freely letting them slip down her face as her mother circled the group with the other ghostly figures. Sarah had already guessed that her mother had been murdered but seeing it confirmed was another thing – and by Voldemort’s wand no less.

Another figure was emerging from the wand, and Sarah already knew who it was going to be before she saw them. Long, dark red hair spilt out before a slim body followed. The figure straightened and smiled at her son, green eyes sparkling in the golden light. Sarah looked at Harry’s face, a picture of devastation and longing. His mother stood to one side of him, her mouth moving quickly as she explained something to him. Harry’s father began blossoming from the end of the wand: tall and untidy-haired just like Harry. He walked close to Harry and reached his smoky hand out as if to touch his shoulder.

All of a sudden the smoky figures swarmed Voldemort. Harry pulled his wand upward and broke the golden thread; the cage of light vanished, the song died – but the shadowy figures did not disappear from where they were closing in upon Voldemort. Sarah’s mother ran around the circle of Death Eaters, keeping them distracted as Harry ran between them, knocking two stunned Death Eaters aside.

Sarah watched as he zigzagged through headstones toward her, dodging curses and hexes. She rose from the ground and shot stunning spells back toward the confused Death Eaters.

“ _Stun him!_ ” Voldemort screamed.

“ _Impedimenta!”_ Harry bellowed, pointing his wand wildly over his shoulder at the Death Eaters running toward them.

“ _Stupefy! Reducto!”_ shrieked Sarah, aiming at the closest Death Eaters who just happened to be Lucius Malfoy and her father. She heard, rather than saw them collapse as Harry’s leapt the last few feet toward them.

His hand closed on her wrist tightly as he raised his wand behind her.

“ _Accio!”_ Harry yelled. The Triwizard Cup soared toward them and Harry caught it by the handle –

They heard Voldemort’s scream of fury at the same moment that a jerk behind Sarah’s navel pulled her away in a whirl of wind and colour, Harry and Cedric with her…They were going back.

***

Sarah felt herself slam onto solid ground; her landing softened by the body beneath her. It took a moment for her senses to work again but when they did, an explosion of sound nearly deafened her. She felt arms wrap around her tightly and she fell back into Harry’s embrace, sobbing her heart out. She grasped Cedric’s robes, refusing to let anything happen to him.

Screams rose up from the deafening roar and she heard someone calling her name. She ignored everything outside her world of pain and grief and turned, burrowing further into Harry’s chest.

“Harry! _Sarah_!”

She opened her eyes briefly to see the starry sky above her, and Albus Dumbledore crouched over them. Sarah felt the ground beneath her reverberating with the crowd’s footsteps.

They had arrived at the edge of the maze. The stands were rising above them, shapes of people moving in them.

Harry knelt beside her, his face pale and stained with tears. Tremors still rocked both their bodies from the aftershock of the Cruciatus Curse. Harry released the Cup but tightened his grip on Sarah. In turn, Sarah tightened her hold on Cedric’s robes.

“He’s back,” Harry whispered. “He’s back. Voldemort.”

“What’s going on? What’s happened? Why is Miss Deaumont with them?”

The face of Cornelius Fudge appeared upside down over Sarah and Harry; it looked white, appalled.

“My God – Diggory!” it whispered. “Dumbledore – he’s dead!”

The comment made Sarah cry harder, great heaving sobs wracking her chest, making it difficult to draw breath. The words were repeated through the crowd as others shouted it – screeched it – into the night.

“Sarah, let go of him,” she heard Fudge say, and she felt fingers trying to unclench her hands from Cedric’s robes. She wouldn’t let him go – she couldn’t, not after everything that had happened. Then Dumbledore’s face came closer.

“Sarah, you can’t help him now. It’s over. Let go.”

“He wanted me to bring his body back,” Harry muttered. “He wanted me to bring him back to his parents.”

In the depts of Sarah’s grief-filled brain, she realised that that must have been what the ghostly figure of Cedric had said to Harry when he appeared from the wand.

“That’s alright, Harry…Sarah, just let go now…”

Dumbledore bent down, and with extraordinary strength for a man so old and thin, raised Sarah and Harry to their feet. They swayed together, clasping each other tightly to stay upright.

“ _No…”_ sobbed Sarah. She wanted to fall back down and never let Cedric go.

“SARAH! HARRY!” Draco’s terrified voice cut through the daze in Sarah’s brain and she registered him forcing his way through the crowd, Ron, Hermione and Remus following quickly on his heels. Sarah’s heart shattered when she looked at him, the ghostly face of her mother reappearing in her mind.

“Draco!” she cried, reaching her hand out to him.

Harry steadied her and helped her take a step towards Draco, who had managed to break his way through the last of crowd. Draco slammed into her and took the breath from her lungs with the force. Harry gently released her as she wrapped her arms tightly around her best friend. She cried into his shoulder and Draco just held her tightly, smoothing down her hair and whispering comforting words.

“You’re ok, I’m here. I’m here now.”

“They’ll need the Hospital Wing!” Fudge was saying loudly. “The boy is obviously ill – You-Know-Who, returned? Preposterous!”

“Cornelius, we will deal with this at a later date. Both of the children are injured – “

“I’ll take Harry, Dumbledore, I’ll take him – “

“Harry, Sarah, stay here – “

There was too much happening: girls screaming, people shouting. Sarah saw Harry being led to the side by Professor Moody and tried to call his name but she couldn’t draw enough breath. She pulled back from Draco and saw someone stumbling towards them – _Amos Diggory_.

“MY SON! THAT’S MY SON! MY BOY – “ His voice broke as he collapsed next to his son’s body.

Draco pulled Sarah back, Ron, Hermione and Remus closing around her and keeping the growing crowd at bay. Sarah could see Fred’s red hair through the crowd, struggling to make progress toward them. Remus wrapped an arm securely around Sarah as she swayed on the spot.

“Harry…Where’s Harry?” Sarah muttered weakly, trying to see over Draco’s shoulder at where Harry had disappeared.

“YOU! You were with them. What happened? Who did this to my son?” Amos Diggory shouted, advancing toward Sarah, tears highlighting the fire behind his eyes.

Hermione stood in front of her and cut Mr Diggory off. “Can’t you see she’s terrified? Give her some space to recover before you attack her!” snapped Hermione, crossing her arms tightly across her chest.

“Amos…She’s right. We need to get Miss Deaumont to the Hospital Wing before we talk to her.” Dumbledore said gently, laying a hand on the other man’s arm. “Come. We’ll make sure Cedric is taken care of. Minerva, please escort Miss Deaumont and the others to the Hospital Wing – you should also find a large black dog sitting in the pumpkin patch at Hagrid’s house if you feel the need to take a slight detour.”

Professor McGonagall nodded and hurried over to Sarah and her friends. “Come, we need to get her there as soon as possible.” Draco, Remus, Ron and Hermione didn’t argue and quickly turned, following Professor McGonagall briskly through the crowd which parted seamlessly for them. Draco kept a tight hold on Sarah and helped her whenever she stumbled.

Eventually, the noise of the crowd disappeared and was replaced by the sounds of the Forest. A loud bark pierced the air as they neared Hagrid’s hut, and a large black shape bounded over the grounds toward them. It raced up to Sarah and seemed to whimper in concern.

“Sirius…” She muttered weakly, resting a hand briefly on the dog’s head before her vision blurred, knees buckling until everything dissolved into darkness.

***

When Sarah woke up, the first thing she noticed was the whispering.

“They’ll wake them both if they don’t shut up!”

“What are they shouting about? Nothing else can have happened, can it?”

Sarah opened her eyes blearily. She could see the fuzzy outlines of Mrs. Weasley and Bill close by. Someone was holding her hand gently, a thumb rubbing soothingly across the top. She turned her head slowly to the left to see Draco staring over her, toward the direction the shouting was coming from. Fred was on Sarah’s side, stroking her hand. Remus stood behind him, his face grave as it looked toward the entrance.

“That’s Fudge’s voice,” Mrs. Weasley whispered. “And that’s Minerva McGonagall, isn’t it? But what are they arguing about?”

Now Sarah could hear them too: people shouting and running toward the Hospital Wing.

“Regrettable, but all the same, Minerva – “ Cornelius Fudge was saying loudly.

“You should never have brought it inside the castle!” yelled Professor McGonagall. “When Dumbledore finds out –“

Sarah heard the hospital doors burst open. She saw Harry sit up in the bed opposite her, unnoticed by any of the people around his bed.

Fudge came striding up the ward. Professors McGonagall and Snape were at his heels.

“Where’s Dumbledore?” Fudge demanded of Mrs. Weasley.

“He’s not here,” said Mrs. Weasley angrily. “This is a hospital wing, Minister, don’t you think you’d do better to – “

But the door opened, and Dumbledore came sweeping up the ward.

“What has happened?” said Dumbledore sharply, looking from Fudge to Professor McGonagall. “Why are you disturbing these people? Minerva, I’m surprised at you – I asked you to stand guard over Barty Crouch – “

“There is no need to stand guard over him anymore, Dumbledore!” she shrieked. “The Minister has seen to that!”

Sarah quickly wondered who this Barty Crouch fellow was but was quickly distracted by Professor McGonagall. She had never seen the Professor lose control like this. There were angry blotches of colours in her cheeks, and her hands were balled into fists; she was trembling with fury.

“When we told Mr. Fudge that we had caught the Death Eater responsible for tonight’s events,” said Snape, in a low voice, “he seemed to feel his personal safety was in question. He insisted on summoning a dementor to accompany him to the castle. He brought it up to the office where Barty Crouch – “

“I told him you would not agree, Dumbledore!” Professor McGonagall fumed. “I told him you would never allow dementors to set foot in the castle, but – “

“My dear woman!” roared Fudged, who likewise looked angrier than Sarah had ever seen him, “as Minister of Magic, it is my decision whether I wish to bring protection with me when interviewing a possibly dangerous – “

But Professor McGonagall’s voice drowned out Fudge’s.

“The moment that – that thing entered the room,” she screamed, pointing at Fudge, trembling all over, “it swooped down on Crouch and – and – “

Sarah felt a chill in her stomach as Professor McGonagall struggled to find words to describe what had happened. She knew all about a dementor’s fatal Kiss and realised why the Professors were so angry: the key witness was gone – nothing about tonight could be proved except for Harry or Sarah’s testimonies.

“By all accounts, he is no loss!” blustered Fudge. “It seems he has been responsible for several deaths.”

“But he cannot now give testimony, Cornelius,” said Dumbledore. He was staring hard at Fudge, as though seeing him plainly for the first time. “He cannot give evidence about why he killed those people.”

“Why he killed them? Well, that’s not a mystery, is it?” spluttered Fudge. “He was a raving lunatic! From what Minerva and Severus have told me, he seems to have thought he was doing it all on You-Know-Who’s instructions!”

“Lord Voldemort _was_ giving him instructions, Cornelius,” Dumbledore state. “Those people’s deaths were mere by-products of a plan to restore Voldemort to full strength again. The plan succeeded. Voldemort has been restored to his body.”

Fudge looked as though someone had just swung a heavy weight into his face. Dazed and blinking, he stared back at Dumbledore as if he couldn’t quite believe what he had just heard. He began to splutter, still goggling at Dumbledore.

Sarah couldn’t help but be disgusted by the actions of the Minister. The man who was meant to be in charge of the entire Ministry was stupid enough to actually believe bringing a dementor to an interrogation of an Azkaban escapee was a bright idea? She thought that maybe the bowler hat he always wore was maybe one or two sizes too small for his head and constricted the blood flow to logical thinking.

“You-Know-Who…returned? Preposterous. Come now, Dumbledore…”

“As Minerva and Severus have doubtless told you,” said Dumbledore, “we heard Barty Crouch confess. Under the influence of Veritaserum, he told us how he was smuggled out of Azkaban, and how Voldemort – learning of his continued existence from Bertha Jorkins – went to free him from his father and used him to capture Harry. The plan worked, I tell you. Crouch has helped Voldemort to return.”

“See here, Dumbledore,” said Fudge, and Sarah was dumbstruck to see a slight smile dawning on his face, “you – you can’t seriously believe that. You-Know-Who – back? Come now, come now…certainly, Crouch may have believed himself to be acting upon You-Know-Who’s orders – but to take the word of a lunatic like that, Dumbledore…”

“When Harry touched the Triwizard Cup tonight, he was transported straight to Voldemort,” said Dumbledore steadily. “He witnessed Lord Voldemort’s rebirth. I will explain it all to you if you will step up to my office.”

Dumbledore glanced around and saw that Sarah and Harry were awake, but shook his head and said, “I am afraid I cannot permit you to question Harry _or_ Sarah tonight.”

Fudge’s curious smile lingered. He too glanced at Harry, then looked back at Dumbledore, and said, “You are – er – prepared to take Harry’s word on this, are you, Dumbledore?”

There was a moment’s silence, which was broken by Sirius growling. His hackles were raised, and he was baring his teeth at Fudge.

“Certainly, I believe Harry,” said Dumbledore. His eyes were blazing now. “I heard Crouch’s confession, and I heard Harry’s account of what happened after he touched the Triwizard Cup; the two stories make sense, they explain everything that has happened since Bertha Jorkins disappeared last summer.”

Fudge still had a strange smile on his face. A creeping sensation built up in Sarah for the cause of his hesitance to believe Dumbledore’s words. Fudge glanced once more at Harry before answering.

“You are prepared to believe that Lord Voldemort has returned, on the word of a lunatic murderer, and a boy who…well…”

Fudge shot Harry another look and Sarah felt her anger burst out of her.

“Are you _actually_ daft?” she asked, disbelief painting her words. Draco, Hermione, Remus and the Weasleys jumped and turned to look at her. None of them had noticed she had woken up.

She pushed herself, with the help of Draco and Fred, into a sitting position and regarded Fudge with a stern glance.

“You are seriously going to stand there and disregard Professor Dumbledore’s words on account that Harry is _apparently_ insane? I thought you were smarter than that, sir, but obviously something isn’t working properly upstairs, because no one could actually be that stupid to believe Rita Skeeter.”

“I beg your pardon – “ Fudge spluttered. Sarah held up a hand.

“I’m not done. I will _not_ accept you claiming that Harry is lying. He went through hell tonight and you _will_ believe him! I did not watch him duel with that snake-faced freak only for you to claim he was crazy! Believe me – if you had seen what he and I saw tonight, you would want someone to believe you because if not, you’ll be terrified of going insane!” she huffed and crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at the dumbstruck Minister.

“I’m not lying, Minister. Voldemort is back and he’s gathering his followers,” said Harry calmly from across the ward. Again, the others in the room were surprised to realise he was awake. Honestly, Sarah was glad none of them were meant to be protecting her because so far they were doing a shoddy job at being observant.

Fudge reddened slightly, but a defiant and obstinate look came over his face.

“Now listen young lady, I am the Minister of Magic and I will not let you command me so! Why one begs to question why I should believe you at all? What were _you_ doing there in the first place – why did you suddenly arrive back with the boy? How do I know that this isn’t some jacked-up plot of yours to embarrass me?” Fudge blustered, his face gradually getting redder and redder.

“Jacked-up plot – embarrass – _what_?” Sarah gasped, staring at the Minister in shock. “Why was I there? I was there because my good-for-nothing father came and kidnapped me off school grounds and apparated us directly to the bloody graveyard,” fumed Sarah. “ _Plot_ \- ? I cannot _believe_ you would accuse us of such an absurd thing! I wasn’t tortured by my father just so you could stand there and spout utter nonsense!”

Silence descended on the group after Sarah finished speaking.

Draco turned to her and grasped her hands tightly, worry gleaming in his grey irises.

“Your father tortured you?” he looked so heartbroken that Sarah regretted revealing that fact. “I am so, so sorry that I wasn’t there to protect you.” Draco’s eyes glistened with tears and Sarah quickly reached forward, placing one hand on his cheek.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Draco. There was nothing you could have done, even if you were there – and I am glad you weren’t,” she assured softly. Sarah glanced around and saw the others watching intently and decided now was not the time for emotional reassurances. “We’ll talk more about this later. Right now, we have a bigger problem to deal with.”

“Sarah’s right. Listen to me, Cornelius,” said Dumbledore, taking a step toward Fudge. He seemed to radiate an indefinable sense of power. “Harry is as sane as you or I. That scar upon his forehead has not addled his brains. I believe it hurts him when Lord Voldemort is close by or feeling particularly murderous.”

Fudge had taken half a step back from Dumbledore, but he looked no less stubborn.

“You’ll forgive me, Dumbledore, but I’ve never heard of a curse scar acting as an alarm bell before…”

“Look, I saw Voldemort come back!” Harry shouted. Sarah was impressed he had managed to contain himself for this long. He tried to get out of bed but Mrs. Weasley forced him back. “I saw the Death Eaters! I can give you their names! Avery – “

Snape made a sudden movement, but as Sarah looked at him, Snape’s eyes flew back to Fudge.

“Avery was cleared!” said Fudge, visibly affronted.

“Macnair!” Harry continued.

“Also cleared! Now working for the Ministry!”

“Nott – Crabbe – Goyle – Pettigrew – “

“My father,” Sarah added.

“Boy, you are merely repeating the names of those who were acquitted of being Death Eaters thirteen years ago! And Pettigrew – Pettigrew is dead!” said Fudge angrily. “You could have found those names in old reports of the trials! And girl, Antonius Deaumont can’t possibly be a Death Eater – he is part of a very old family – donations to excellent causes – “

“Sorry to burst your bubble, Minister but I think I would recognise my father – particularly when he’s putting a curse on me,” Sarah interjected angrily.

Fudge glared at Sarah for a few seconds before turning toward Dumbledore.

“See! They’re both full of the same crackpot story and you’re swallowing their lies, Dumbledore!” Fudge announced, seemingly unaware of the daggers Harry was looking at him.

“You fool!” Professor McGonagall cried. “Cedric Diggory! Mr Crouch! These deaths were not the random work of a lunatic!”

“I see no evidence to the contrary!” shouted Fudge, now matching her anger, his face purpling. “It seems to me that you are all determined to start a panic that will destabilise everything we have worked for these last thirteen years!”

Sarah couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Judging from the others’ expressions, neither could they. She had always thought of Fudge as a stable figure, a little pompous and arrogant but essentially good-natured. But now a short, angry wizard stood before them, refusing, point-blank, to accept the prospect of disruption in his comfortable and order world – to believe that Voldemort could have risen.

Sarah sat in a shocked daze as Dumbledore and Fudge commenced an argument surrounding removing the dementors from Azkaban. How could he possibly dismiss the truth? Voldemort had finally returned and was only going to get stronger.

The fear that she had felt in the graveyard was quickly returning and she found herself beginning to shake again. Fred glanced over at her, concern etched upon his face and shouted over the adults.

“Would everyone _please_ stop arguing! Can’t you see that Sarah and Harry need rest?”

Draco rose to his full height and stared down the Minister. “I think we would all appreciate it if this conversation would be either postponed to a later date or moved to a different location. I for one, would like to make sure my best friend is recovering – and as Minister for Magic, it is your responsibility to think of the wellbeing of those under your care. Right now, there are two gravely injured students that need to be attended to, so it would be appreciated if you could please leave the hospital ward so that they may receive the necessary treatment.”

Draco turned his back on the Minister and sat down beside Sarah, calmly taking her hand again.

It seemed Fudge could think of no answer to this. He rocked backward and forward on his small feet for a moment and spun his bowler hat in his hands. Finally, he said, with a hint of a plea in his voice, “He can’t be back, Dumbledore, he just can’t be…”

Snape strode forward, past Dumbledore, pulling up the left sleeve of his robes as he went. Draco drew in a sharp breath beside Sarah as Snape stuck out his forearm and showed it to Fudge, who recoiled.

“There,” said Snape harshly. “There. The Dark Mark. It is not as clear as it was an hour or so ago, when it burned black, but you can still see it. Every Death Eater had the sign burned into him by the Dark Lord. It was a means of distinguishing one another, and his means of summoning us to him. When he touched the Mark of any Death Eater, we were to disapparate, and apparate, instantly, at his side. This Mark has been growing clearer all year. Karkaroff’s too. Why do you think Karkaroff fled tonight? We both felt the Mark burn. We both knew he had returned. Karkaroff fears the Dark Lord’s vengeance. He betrayed too many of his fellow Death Eaters to be sure of a welcome back into the fold.”

Fudge stepped back from Snape too. He was shaking his head. He did not seem to have taken in a word Snape had said. He stared, apparently repelled by the ugly mark on Snape’s arm, then looked at Dumbledore and whispered, “I don’t know what you and your staff are playing at, Dumbledore, but I have heard enough. I have no more to add. I will be touch with you tomorrow, Dumbledore to discuss the running of this school. I must return to the Ministry.”

He had almost reached the door when he paused. He turned around, strode back down the ward, and stopped at Harry’s bed.

“Your winnings,” he said shortly, taking a large bag of gold out of his pocket and dropping it onto Harry’s bedside table. “One thousand Galleons. There should have been a presentation ceremony, but under the circumstances…”

He crammed his bowler hat onto his head and walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him. The moment he had disappeared, Dumbledore turned to look at the group surrounding the two beds.

“There is work to be done,” he said. “Molly…am I right in thinking that I can count on you and Arthur?”

“Of course you can,” said Mrs. Weasley, She was white to the lips but she looked resolute. “We know what Fudge is. It’s Arthur’s fondness of Muggles that has held him back at the Ministry all these years. Fudge thinks he lacks proper Wizarding pride.”

“Then I need to send a message to Arthur,” said Dumbledore. “All those that we can persuade of the truth must be notified immediately, and he is well placed to contact those at the Ministry who are not as short-sighted as Cornelius.”

“I’ll go to Dad,” said Bill, standing up. “I’ll go now.”

“Excellent,” said Dumbledore. “Tell him what has happened. Tell him I will be in direct contact with him shortly. He will need to be discreet, however. If Fudge thinks I am interfering at the Ministry – “

“Leave it to me,” said Bill.

He clapped a hand on Harry’s shoulder, nodded at Sarah and the others, kissed his mother on the cheek, pulled on his cloak and strode quickly from the room.

“Minerva,” said Dumbledore, turning to Professor McGonagall, “I want to see Hagrid in my office as soon as possible. Also – if she will consent to come – Madame Maxime.”

Professor McGonagall nodded and left without a word.

“Poppy,” Dumbledore said to Madam Pomfrey, “I know you are waiting to attend to these children but would you be very kind and go down to Professor Moody’s office, where I think you will find a house-elf called Winky in considerable distress? Do what you can for her and take her back to the kitchens. I think Dobby will look after her for us. You can return here afterward.”

“Very – very well,” said Madam Pomfrey, looking startled. She quickly went to a nearby cabinet and brought out two small vials which she placed on Sarah and Harry’s bedside tables. “These are pain-relieving potions for until I come back.” She too left.

Dumbledore made sure that the door was closed and that Madam Pomfrey’s footsteps had died away before he spoke again.

“And now,” he said, “it is time for two of our number to recognise each other for what they are. Sirius…if you could resume your usual form.”

The great black dog looked up at Dumbledore, then, in an instant, turned back into a man.

Mrs. Weasley screamed and leapt back from the bed.

“Sirius Black!” she shrieked, pointing at him.

“Mum, shut up!” Ron yelled. “It’s okay!”

Snape had not yelled or jumped backward, but the look on his face was one of mingled fury and horror.

“Him!” he snarled, staring at Sirius, whose face showed equal dislike. “What is he doing here?”

“Sev! Please. You don’t have to get along, just deal with his presence, for Sarah’s sake…” Draco pleaded, his godfather eyeing him with a hint of incredulity.

“Fine!” Snape snapped, scowling at anyone who dared make eye contact.

Sirius huffed but said nothing, instead, quickly moving toward Harry’s bed and resting his hand on his godson’s shoulder.

“How are you holding up, pup?” asked Sirius softly.

“As well as I can be, considering the past few hours,” Harry groaned, slowly reaching for the potion beside him.

“That’s a good idea. Fred, can you pass me mine please?” Sarah muttered quietly, taking the potion Fred offered her and downing it in one swallow. “Ugh! They always taste so horrid.”

Sirius laughed and walked over to her bed. He brushed back her hair tenderly as he took a seat next to Draco.

Sarah sat in silence for a moment before looking between Draco, Fred, Remus and Sirius and whispered. “I can’t go home at all, now. Neither can you Draco – your dad was there tonight.”

Draco’s face paled but he didn’t look surprised, we both had known that our father’s still believed in Voldemort’s rule. Sarah turned to face Sirius.

“Is your family home fixed up enough for us to stay in? I don’t think Remus’ place is large enough…” she didn’t want to sound too hopeful but couldn’t help the slight pleading tone of her voice.

“It will do. You both can stay,” said Sirius quickly. He turned to look at Dumbledore pointedly. “And Harry will stay with us as well. I don’t want him going back to his horrid relatives.”

“He has to return to the Dursleys, Sirius. I cannot allow him to stay the entire summer with you,” said Dumbledore. Behind him, Harry’s face visibly fell and Sarah knew she would not let him return to that horrible place.

“Well, it’s a good thing it won’t be the entire summer then. Harry still has to go back to pick up his stuff before coming with us. He’ll spend a few hours with the Dursleys – then technically he didn’t stay with us the _entire_ summer,” Sarah voiced, her tone allowing no place for an argument.

Dumbledore looked as if he wanted to counter her but a quick look around the room showed he was outnumbered.

“Very well,” he said, “Harry may remain with you, Draco, Remus and Sirius this summer.”

Sarah ignored Dumbledore giving instructions to Snape – the Potions Professor sweeping out of the ward like a giant bat – and instead, focused on the feeling of Fred brushing her hair back.

Opposite her, Harry slumped against his pillow as Dumbledore finished speaking and disappeared. Hermione, Ron and Mrs. Weasley were watching him worriedly. None of them spoke for a very long time.

“You have a good long sleep, you two,” Mrs. Weasley said at last. “Try and think about something else for a while…What about what you are going to buy with your winnings!”

“I don’t want that gold,” said Harry in an expressionless voice. “You have it. Anyone can have it. I shouldn’t have won it. It should’ve been Cedric’s.”

Sarah watched as Harry blinked repeatedly, obviously trying to stop tears from spilling from his eyes. She turned to Draco and nudged his hand, inclining her head towards the raven-haired boy. Draco squeezed her hand once before releasing it and stood, making his way across to Harry’s bed.

Harry raised his head and smiled weakly when he saw Draco approaching. He moved over quickly to make space for the blonde on the bed. Draco settled in beside Harry, wrapping his arm around the other.

Harry, despite the brief happiness of having Draco comfort him, still look devastated.

“It wasn’t your fault, Harry,” Sarah whispered.

“I told him to take the Cup with me,” said Harry.

“Stop!” Sarah snapped. “It was not your fault! It was Voldemort’s and everyone who showed up tonight, okay? There was nothing you could have done.”

There was a loud slamming noise and everyone jumped. Hermione was standing by the window she had been staring at. She was holding something tight in her hand.

“Sorry,” she whispered.

“Come you two,” said Mrs. Weasley. “It’s time for you to rest now.”

Harry and Sarah both settled back against the pillows. Sarah thought there was no chance of her falling asleep, but the soothing motion of Fred’s hand in her hair quickly drew her into a dreamless slumber and she tumbled into darkness without a second thought.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

When she looked back, Sarah found she had only scattered memories of the next few days. The recollections she did have were very painful. The worse, perhaps, was seeing Harry meet with the Diggorys the next morning after the task.

Sarah had hobbled over to his bed, her muscles still spasming every so often as an effect of the Cruciatus Curse.

The Diggorys did not blame Harry, or Sarah, for Cedric’s death; on the contrary, both had thanked them for returned Cedric’s body to them. Mr Diggory sobbed through the meeting. Mrs Diggory’s grief seemed to be beyond tears.

“He suffered very little then,” she said when Harry had told her how Cedric had died. Wormtail had shot a Killing Curse at him as soon as he and Harry had appeared in the graveyard. “And after all, Amos…he died just when he’d won the tournament. He must have been happy.”

When they go to their feet, she looked down at Harry and Sarah and said, “You look after yourselves, now.”

Harry seized the sack of gold on the bedside table.

“You take this,” he muttered to Mrs Diggory. “It should have been Cedric’s, he got there first, you take it – “

But she backed away from him.

“Oh no, it’s yours dear, I couldn’t…you keep it.”

Sarah and Harry returned to their separate dormitories the following evening. From what Draco, Pansy and Blaise had told her, Dumbledore had spoken to the school that morning at breakfast. He had merely requested that they leave Harry and Sarah alone, that nobody as them questions or badger them to tell the story of what had happened in the maze and graveyard. Sarah, of course, only knew what had happened in the maze from Harry’s quiet recount to her and the others earlier that morning. Most people, she noticed, where skirting her in the corridors, avoiding her eyes. Some whispered behind their hands as she passed. She guessed that many of them were wondering how she had ended up appearing beside Harry at the end of the task – no one knew that her father had taken her from the school grounds.

Sarah spent most of her time in the Slytherin common room surrounded by Draco, Pansy, Blaise, Theo and Millicent. She had quietly told them what happened in the graveyard, Theo’s eyes going wide when his father was mentioned.

“If you need somewhere safe to stay over the holidays, we know a place,” Draco had said softly to the other boy.

“Thanks, but I need to go home first,” Theo had replied. “I’ll see what happens.”

Remus and Dumbledore had had a meeting about Harry coming with them as soon as the summer holidays started. But Dumbledore had argued that Harry would be going back to the Dursleys first. Sarah and Draco were furious and had already sent Sirius a letter telling him that they would not be letting Harry stay in that horrible place any longer than a week at worst.

Occasionally, Draco would lead Sarah up to Gryffindor Tower, where she would spend a few hours wrapped in Fred’s arms in front of the fire, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Draco and George sitting nearby. She and Harry were both quiet. No matter how much Sarah had experienced that night, she couldn’t even begin to fathom how Harry was feeling. More than once, she caught him staring blankly off into space and would lay a gentle hand on his shoulder.

The day before they were meant to be going home for the summer holidays found Sarah and Harry sitting on the Astronomy Tower one night, a blanket wrapped around them as they cried into each other’s shoulders. They shared how they had been waking from nightmares, shaking from the pain of the Cruciatus Curse or the image of Cedric’s dead body. Sarah confessed that watching Harry and Voldemort duel left her waking up screaming at the top of her lungs as she feared for his life. In turn, Harry revealed that watching Sarah get tortured by her father made him wake up covered in sweat, heart racing as he prepared to go find her to make sure she was okay. She convinced Draco to spend some nights in Harry’s dormitory with her and he hadn’t made any comments when she and Harry had wrapped themselves around each other and shook with silent tears. Draco was always there to comfort them when they woke up but all three of them knew that these holidays would be the hardest yet.

Sarah was with Harry in his room as he packed his things the last morning of term. The others had already gone down to lunch, albeit reluctantly. Sarah’s appetite had waned slightly so she hadn’t felt like joining them.

“Sirius, Remus, Draco and I aren’t going to leave you there,” Sarah promised. Harry threw another shirt into his trunk and sat down heavily on his bed.

“I don’t understand why Dumbledore won’t let me go with you,” he said miserably, picking at his blanket.

Sarah said down beside him and leant her head on his shoulder. “I don’t know either, Harry,” she sighed. “But I know that Sirius and Remus have been fighting him every day. Anyway, Draco and I already have a plan. It might just mean that you have to spend a few days with those horrid people – then you’ll be with us.”

Harry smiled weakly. “I’m sure I can survive a few days with them, considering everything…”

Sarah just sighed again and curled closer to his warmth.

After a few minutes, she stood up.

“Come on, you need to finish packing,” she said, ruffling his already-messy hair.

When they all entered the Hall later for dinner, they noticed at once that the usual decorations were missing. The Great Hall was normally decorated with the winning House’s colours for the Leaving feast. Tonight, however, there were black drapes on the wall behind the teachers’ table. Sarah knew instantly that they were there as a mark of respect to Cedric.

Alastor Moody, who had actually turned out to be locked in a chest and replaced with the imposter Barty Crouch Jr, was at the staff table now. Harry had explained how Barty Crouch Jr had used Polyjuice Potion all year to pretend to be Moody, and that he had put Harry’s name in th Goblet of Fire and ensured that Harry would touch the Triwizard Cup and get transported to the graveyard. It also explained why Moody had led Sarah to her father that night.

Madame Maxime was still there, even though Karkaroff’s seat was empty. Sarah wondered if Voldemort had caught up to Karkaroff after he had fled. Hagrid was sitting next to Madame Maxime and they were talking quietly together. Further along the table, sitting next to Professor McGonagall was Snape. His eyes lingered on Sarah for a moment as she looked at him. His expression was difficult to read. Over the past week, he had constantly appeared in the Slytherin common room, a potion vial in hand, which he silently handed to Sarah, dark eyes observing her movements and responses. Sarah continued to watch him, long after Snape had looked away.

Professor Dumbledore stood up at the staff table. The Great Hall, which in any case had been less noisy than it usually was at the Leaving Feast, became very quiet.

“The end,” said Dumbledore, looking around at them all, “of another year.”

He paused, and his eyes fell upon the Hufflepuff table. Theirs had been the most subdued table before he had gotten to his feet, and theirs was still the saddest and palest faces in the Hall.

“There is much that I would like to say to you all tonight,” said Dumbledore, “but I must first acknowledge the loss of a very fine person, who should be sitting here,” he gestured toward the Hufflepuff table, “enjoying our feast with us. I would like you all, please, to stand, and raise your glasses, to Cedric Diggory.”

They did it, all of them; the benches scraped as everyone in the Hall stood, and raised their goblets, and echoed, in one loud, low, rumbling voice, “Cedric Diggory.”

Sarah’s voice broke on his name, and in an unusual public display of affection, Theo grabbed her free hand, holding tightly onto it.

“Cedric was a person who exemplified many of the qualities that distinguish Hufflepuff House,” Dumbledore continued. “He was a good and loyal friend, a hard worker, he valued fair play. His death affected you all, whether you knew him well or not. I think that you have the right, therefore, to know exactly how it came about.”

Sarah raised her head and stared at Dumbledore.

“Cedric Diggory was murdered by Lord Voldemort.”

A panicked whisper swept across the Great Hall. People were staring at Dumbledore in disbelief, in horror. He looked perfectly calm as he watched them mutter themselves into silence.

“The Ministry of Magic,” Dumbledore continued, “does not wish me to tell you this. It is possible that some of your parents will be horrified that I have done so – either because they will not believe that Lord Voldemort has returned, or because they think I should not tell you so, young as you are. It is my belief, however, that the truth is generally preferable to lies, and that any attempt to pretend that Cedric died as the result of an accident, or some sort of blunder of his own, is an insult to his memory.”

Stunned and frightened, every face in the Hall was turned to Dumbledore now…or almost every face. Sarah saw Crabbe and Goyle muttering together. She felt a hot, sick swoop of anger in her stomach. She forced herself to look back at Dumbledore.

“There is somebody else who must be mentioned in connection to Cedric’s death,” Dumbledore went on. Sarah felt even sicker as Dumbledore said, “I am talking, of course, about Harry Potter.”

A kind of ripple crossed the Great Hall as a few heads turned in Harry’s direction before flicking back to face Dumbledore.

“Harry Potter managed to escape Lord Voldemort,” said Dumbledore. “He, along with the help of Sarah Deaumont, risked their lives to return Cedric’s body to Hogwarts. They showed bravery in facing Lord Voldemort.”

Sarah forced herself not to flinch as heads turned in her direction. She was angry at Dumbledore for mentioning her and Harry – he could have left it at telling the truth about Cedric’s death, he didn’t need to drag them both into it anymore than they already were.

“I ask you not to inquire into the circumstances of Sarah ending up alongside Harry and Cedric. All you need to know is that, due to unfortunate circumstances, she was transported to the same location as the others that night,” Dumbledore said, ignoring the harsh glare Sarah was sending his way.

“Unfortunate circumstances,” scoffed Pansy. “More like inadequate student protection.”

Sarah felt the anger drain out of her quickly. Recently, she had been finding it difficult to feel any strong emotion for an extended period of time – now she just most felt numb. It was as though the pain of the Cruciatus Curse had overpowered every other emotion she would naturally feel.

“The Triwizard Tournament’s aim was to further and promote magical understanding. In light of what has happened – of Lord Voldemort’s return – such ties are more important than ever before.”

Dumbledore looked from Madame Maxime and Hagrid, to Fleur Delacour and her fellow Beauxbatons students, to Viktor Krum and the Durmstrangs at the Slytherin table. Viktor, Mila and Aleksander had chosen seats close to Sarah and her friends. Sarah saw that Viktor looked wary, almost frightened as Dumbledore gazed at him. He had revealed that fake Moody had placed him under the Imperious Curse and used him to attack Cedric and Fleur in the maze in order to get rid of the competition for Harry.

“Every guest in this Hall,” said Dumbledore, his eyes lingered upon the Durmstrang students, “will be welcomed back here at any time, should they wish to come. I say to you all, once again – in the light of Lord Voldemort’s return, we are only as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided. Lord Voldemort’s gift for spreading discord and enmity is very great. We can fight it only by showing an equally strong bond of friendship and trust. Differences of habit and language are nothing at all if our aims are identical and our hearts are open. It is my belief – and never have I so hoped that I am mistaken – that we are all facing dark and difficult times. Some of you in this Hall have already suffered directly at the hands of Lord Voldemort. Many of your families have been torn asunder. A week ago, a student was taken from our midst.” He paused again and surveyed the sombre students. “Remember Cedric. Remember, if the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right and what is easy, remember what happened to a boy who was good, and kind, and brave, because he strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort. Remember Cedric Diggory.”

***

Sarah was waiting with Draco, Harry, Ron and Hermione in the crowded entrance hall with the rest of the fourth years for the carriages that would take them back to Hogsmeade station for the train home. It was another beautiful summer’s day – but Sarah couldn’t find it in herself to enjoy it. Harry was being forced back to the Dursleys, Sarah and Draco were being forced into hiding from their fathers…and Voldemort had returned. Right now, she couldn’t see much of a bright side in the future.

“’Arry!”

Sarah turned around to see Fleur Delacour hurrying up the stone steps into the castle. Beyond her, far across the grounds, Sarah could see Hagrid helping Madame Maxime to back two of the giant horses into their harnesses. The Beauxbatons carriage was about to take off.

“We will see each uzzer again, I ‘ope,” said Fleur as she reached Harry, holding out her hand. She turned her bright smile on Sarah and the other and said, “I am ‘oping to get a hob ‘ere, to improve my Eenglish.”

“It’s very good already,” said Ron in a strangled sort of voice. Fleur smiled at him; Hermione scowled.

“You’re more than welcome to write or visit over the holidays, Fleur,” Sarah said, smiling slightly at the girl. “Draco and I would appreciate having someone around to talk to who wasn’t a complete heathen.”

Harry slapped her arm slightly, turning a smile toward her that _just_ didn’t reach his eyes.

“I would love zat, Sarah,” gushed Fleur. “I regret not talking to you more during ze year. I ‘ad been ‘oping to speak with you once I ‘ad ‘eard you speak Français.”

“Pas de soucis,” Sarah said softly, leaning forward to kiss Fleur’s cheeks twice. Draco copied her actions and whispered something in Fleur’s ear that Sarah couldn’t hear. Fleur smiled at Draco and kissed his cheeks, nodding eagerly.

“Au revoir, tout le monde,” Fleur exclaimed. “It ‘az been a pleasure meeting you!”

“Wonder how the Durmstrang students are getting back,” said Ron after Fleur had left. “D’you reckon they can steer that ship with Karkaroff?”

“Karkaroff did not steer,” said a gruff voice. “He stayed in his cabin and let us do the vork.”

Viktor had come to say goodbye to them. Mila and Aleksander appeared behind him.

“Vrite to us this summer,” Mila said, pulling Harry into a tight hug. Aleksander did the same to Sarah and she relished the safe feeling of being in the arms of someone so much taller and broader than her.

“Only if you do as well,” Draco said, accepting a hug from Mila and then Aleksander.

Viktor came back from where he had been speaking quietly to Hermione and quickly embraced Sarah, shaking Harry, Draco and Ron’s hands.

“You are all velcome in Bulgaria vhenever you vish,” he said sincerely. “It has been vonderful to get to know all of you.”

“Don’t be a stranger, Viktor,” Sarah said, waving to the trio as they left to go meet with the other Durmstrang students.

The weather could not have been more different on the journey back to King’s Cross than it had been on their way to Hogwarts the previous September. There wasn’t a single cloud in the sky. Draco said quietly beside Sarah in the compartment that he, Sarah, Harry, Ron and Hermione had gotten for themselves. Sarah knew he was thinking about the letter he had sent his mother, explaining that he would not be returning home to her this summer. Sarah squeezed his hand and he turned to her, sending her a thin-lipped smile before turning back to the window. Harry was on Sarah’s other side and she had refused to let go of him so far, hoping that if she didn’t, he would be forced to go to the Dursleys.

Harry, Ron and Hermione were talking about Dumbledore’s speech and what they thought he might be planning to do to stop Voldemort, only pausing when the lunch trolley arrived. When Hermione returned from the trolley and put her money back into her schoolbag, she dislodged a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ that she had been carrying in there. Sarah looked at it uneasily, but Hermione said calmly, “There’s nothing in there. You can look for yourself, but there’s nothing at all. I’ve been checking every day. Just a small piece after the third task saying Harry won the tournament. They didn’t even mention Cedric. Nothing about any of it. If you ask me, Fudge is forcing them to keep quiet.”

“He’ll never keep Rita quiet,” said Harry. “Not on a story like this.”

“Oh, Rita hasn’t written anything at all since the third task,” said Hermione in an oddly constrained voice. “As a matter of fact,” she added, her voice now trembling slightly, “Rita Skeeter isn’t going to be writing anything at all for a while. Not unless she wants me to spill the beans on _her_.”

“What are you talking about?” said Ron.

“I found out how she was listening in on private conversations when she wasn’t supposed to be coming onto the grounds,” said Hermione in a rush.

Sarah had the impression that Hermione had been dying to tell them this for days, but that she had restrained herself in light of everything else that had happened.

“How was she doing it?” said Harry at once.

“How did you find out?” said Ron, staring at her.

“Well, it was you, really, who gave me the idea, Harry,” she said.

“Did i?” said Harry, perplexed. “How?”

“ _Bugging_ ,” said Hermione happily.

“But you said they didn’t work – “

“Oh not _electronic_ bugs,” said Hermione. Draco had turned away from the window to watch the conversation in growing confusion, a feeling shared by Sarah. “No, you see…Rita Skeeter” – Hermione’s voice trembled with quiet triumph – “is an unregistered Animagus. She can turn – “

Hermione pulled a small sealed glass jar out of her bag.

“ – into a beetle.”

“You’re kidding,” said Ron faintly. “You haven’t…she’s not…”

“Oh yes she is,” said Hermione happily, brandishing the jar at them.

Inside were a few twigs and leaves and one large, fat beetle.

“That’s never – you’re kidding – “ Ron whispered, lifting the jar to his eyes.

“No, I’m not,” said Hermione, beaming. “I caught her on the windowsill in the hospital wing. Look very closely, and you’ll notice the markings around her antennae are exactly like those foul glasses she wears.”

Sarah looked and saw that she was quite right. Harry suddenly spoke up.

“There was a beetle on the statue the night Draco and I heard Hagrid telling Madame Maxime about his mum!”

“When was that?” Sarah asked. Rita Skeeter had written a horrible article about Hagrid months ago about being a half-giant. It had caused him to try to resign. She had been a bit preoccupied with the issue with Ron and the second task to remember too much about it.

“The Yule Ball,” replied Draco.

“Exactly,” said Hermione. “And Viktor pulled a beetle out of my hair after we’d had our conversation by the lake. And unless I’m very much mistaken, Rita was perched on the windowsill of the Divination class the say your scar hurt. She’s been buzzing around for stories all year.”

“Very clever,” murmured Sarah.

Hermione took the glass jar back from Ron and smiled at the beetle, which buzzed angrily against the glass.

“I’ve told her I’ll let her out when we get back to London,” said Hermione. “I’ve put an Unbreakable Charm on the jar, you see, so she can’t transform. And I’ve told her she’s to keep her quill to herself for a whole year. See if she can’t break the habit of writing horrible lies about people.”

Smiling serenely, Hermione placed the beetle back inside her schoolbag.

The door of the compartment slid open.

“Very clever, Granger,” said Vincent Crabbe.

Crabbe and Goyle were standing in the doorway. All of them looked more pleased with themselves, more arrogant and more menacing than Sarah had ever seen them. It infuriated her.

“Oh, can you just fuck off?” she snapped, drawing her wand.

“You picked the losing side, Deaumont! I warned you!” Crabbe sneered. “Too late now. Muggle-lovers like your Weasleys, and you too, Malfoy – your family will be disgraced when you choose _Potter_ over them. Blood traitors and Mudbloods will be the first to go, now the Dark Lord’s back! Well – second – Diggory was the f – “

It was as though someone had exploded a box of fireworks within the compartment. Blinded by the blaze of spells that had blasted from every direction, deafened by a series of bangs, Sarah blinked and looked down at the floor.

Crabbe and Goyle were all lying unconscious in the doorway. She, Draco, Harry, Ron and Hermione were all on their feet, all three of them having used a different hex. Nor were they the only ones to have done so.

“Thought we’d see what those two were up to,” said Fred matter-of-factly, stepping onto Goyle and into the compartment. He had his wand out, and so did George, who was careful to tread on Crabbe as he followed Fred inside.

“Interesting effect,” said George, looking down at Crabbe. “Who used the Furnunculus Curse?”

“Me,” said Harry.

“Odd,” said George lightly. “I used Jelly-Legs. Looks as though those two shouldn’t be mixed. He seems to have sprouted little tentacles all over his face. Well, let’s not leave them here, they don’t add much to the décor.”

Ron, Harry and George kicked, rolled, and pushed the unconscious Crabbe and Goyle – each of whom looked distinctly worse for the jumble of jinxes with which they had been hit – out into the corridor, then came back into the compartment and rolled the door shut.

“Exploding Snap anyone?” George said, pulling out a pack of cards. Harry, Draco, Ron and Hermione accepted. Sarah and Fred declined and settled against the corner of the compartment, Sarah resting against Fred’s chest.

George began telling the others about how Bagman had cheated him and Fred out of their World Cup bet as they played a round of Snap.

Fred brushed a gentle hand through Sarah’s hair and whispered, “How are you holding up?”

Sarah thought for a moment and answered truthfully, “I feel numb.” Fred tensed slightly but then resuming stroking, pressing a soft kiss to the side of her head. Sarah continued, feeling the need to out what she was feeling into words, “I was terrified that night and it hurt – it hurt so much to be under that curse. But now – now I just feel nothing. Sometimes I’ll feel angry or immensely sad but other than that…I just feel empty and tired.”

She turned slightly and rested her cheek against Fred’s chest, wrapping her arms around him.

“I don’t know why – I didn’t even experience half of what Harry did and he’s holding up better than me, I think at least…” she muttered.

Fred gripped her tighter and said sternly but quietly, “Don’t say that, Sarah. You can’t compare your suffering to someone else’s. Yes, Harry went through something horrible but so did _you_. You were tortured by your father – you saw the ghost of your mother – you saw the body of a schoolmate. It was a horrible experience and you are reacting to it in a _different_ way to Harry. That doesn’t mean it’s wrong or unfair or strange. You should _never_ invalidate your reaction to a traumatising event.”

Sarah nodded and let the tears she had been holding back slide down her face. Fred’s breath was warm against her hair as he continued, “I want you to promise me that you’ll come to me or Draco or Remus or Sirius or Harry – anyone – if you need to. Don’t bottle this up inside you. Talk to me, talk to others – you’re not alone – neither you nor Harry.”

Sarah snuggled closer to Fred and let him hold her, feeling as if all the emotions that had been numbed in her chest were slowly unblocking. She knew that it would be a while before she was better but it was a start. At least feeling something was better than feeling nothing.

She must have fallen asleep because the next thing she knew, Fred was exclaiming in surprise, “He’s _mental_!”

She sat up and rubbed her face. Fred’s arms were still around her but they were dangling loosely in shock. Sarah turned and saw that Harry was holding out the bag of gold from his Triwizard Tournament winnings, waving it in front of George’s face. The rest of the compartment was empty – they had reached King’s Cross Station.

“Listen,” said Harry firmly in a tone that suggested he had already been arguing this point for a while, “If you don’t take it, I’m throwing it down the drain. I don’t want it and I don’t need it. Use it to start your joke shop – start inventing. I could do with a few laughs. We could all do with a few laughs. I’ve got a feeling we’re going to need them more than usual before long.”

“Harry,” said George weakly, weighing the money bag in his hands, “there’s got to be a thousand Galleons in here.”

“Yeah,” said Harry grinning. “Think of how many Canary Creams that is.”

The twins stared at him.

“Just don’t tell your mum where you go it…although she might not be so keen for you to join the Ministry anymore, come to think of it…”

“Harry,” Fred began, but Harry pulled out his wand.

“Look,” he said flatly, “take it or I’ll hex you. I know some good ones now. Just do me a favour, okay? Buy Ron some different dress robes and say they’re from you.”

Sarah smiled brightly at Harry and the twins. She reached out and closed George’s hand over the money bag.

“Give us something to look forward to,” she said to them.

Fred and George exchanged a look and then nodded at her. George slipped the bag into a pocket and clapped Harry on the shoulder in thanks.

Sarah joined the three of them in leaving the compartment and Hogwarts Express.

Remus and Draco were waiting on the Muggle side of the King’s Cross, Sirius sitting patiently at their feet in his dog form. Ron, Hermione and the Weasleys stood next to them, talking to Hermione’s parents.

Draco looked up as Sarah, Harry and the twins walked up to them.

“All right?” he asked, taking Sarah’s trunk from her.

“Yeah, we are,” Sarah said with a nod, smiling at him.

She turned to say goodbye to the Weasleys and Hermione and pulled Harry into a tight hug last.

“Remember,” she whispered into his ear, “A week. Look out for my owl.”

He beamed at her.

“I look forward to it,” he said.

He kissed Draco’s cheek quickly and waved to everyone before walking to where his Uncle Vernon was waiting with a frown on his ugly face. Harry ignored his uncle’s question and just marched away into the crowd, his uncle struggling to hurry after him.

“You two ready to go home?” Remus asked Sarah and Draco.

They looked at each other and smiled softly. Sarah took Draco’s hand and turned back to Remus, feeling his hand fall on her shoulder.

“Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And fourth year is done. I apologise for all the emails everyone is getting about chapter updates :P


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